Tender Skin

 

All I’ve ever wanted
is a quiet place
in which to create,
to write and why not just say,
“a safe space”?

Where warm light softly
filters in
to reveal the blush of bruises
underneath this tender skin

II

How exactly do we choose now
to connect?

Which fragments of this life
should we select
to portray these fragile, inner worlds?

Given how deeply
we suspect “the other” and do not trust
ourselves …

Which uncertain possibilities
to shed?
Which to protect?

III

History repeats again,
this hidden hatred rises,
in the hearts of men
(and women, yes
it beats inside us all)

Each generation bears the witness
and the blame,
the burden of our time
still weighs the same and

WE
MUST
CHOOSE

which side of history we stand
or we we will lose …
everything

IV

See this child?
Her tender skin
contrasts with mine

But underneath we are both
blood and bone
We do things together
that cannot be dreamed alone

We will fly together over walls,
hide each other when the Bad Man calls
We have fought this war for centuries,
been bought and sold

Still we weave, we knit
we laugh, we fold,
we spin our stories out of gold

We call our sisters to a warm hearth,
shield each other from this bitter cold.