dry shoulder

cry on me.
it’s not ok.
enough with the lies.
its all spinning faster
and sucking you
down wind from
the daylight.
you pray
but he's still
sick.
you beg
but they've all
succumbed to the
nagging noise of
defeat.
its become
deafening,
deadly-
as time is
running low
and your body
wains, weary
from the pain
of provision
for a family who
can't stand
without your
maternal arms
to hold them up.
it's not ok.
so cry on my
dry shoulder.
i'll be your arms
for the moment.

henna blossoms

i had a dream
you nearly died
and so did i
watching your eyes
roll back
and back again
to my own

i'd get along
without your
weathered hands
on my skin
but what is life
without warmth?

"arise, my darling,
and come with me,"
and we will live
today