Monday, April 1, 2013

Joy

These days I picture myself
as a tightrope walker across my own nerves,
spun thin like glass,
thin as spiderwebs,
sharp as needles.

So when I hear your laugh
and see your warm smile
and kind, tired eyes,
and these spun shards turn slack,
soft as silk,

All I can do is say "Thank You,
Thank You, God.  Thank You,
for the solace of an unexpected sister,
for souls recognizing other souls,

for the comfort of friendship,
like warm oil poured over my head
and running over these tired shoulders,
bent from carrying my own weight.

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