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Click hereA tiny hand between my two,
Cold from the
Drip
Drip
Drip of killing juice.
My warmth goes out,
Replaced with strength,
That overflows.
Through eyes,
Deeper than an ocean trench,
Fuller than the snowy sky.
My little teacher.
Sleep.
Very elegant. The minimalist style works well here.
most effective in presentation...sorry I missed this when first posted...
Your caring and sensitivity come shining through..Thankyou Carrie
In submitting my comment regarding your fine poem, I neglected to adjust the rating. I meant to give it the 100 it so richly deserved. Mea culpa!
and telling. We all need this kind of compassion and understanding. Thank you, Carrie, both for the poem and the comfort your hands give that small one.
the stark, harsh drip, drip, dripping, so slow, lingering and inevitable. So well portrayed here... well done.
jim : )
simple, lovely, moving...I can't say enough.
It makes me want to hug you.
Thank you for sharing this.
and I wish you strength and peace
...as a rec.therapist I did an internship in a children's hospital that devoted half of itself to oncology. During my time there so many children entered the hospital and so few left. And the families...the families. Thank you for reminding me of memories long forgotten; of joys and sadnesses intertwined.
who is weak/who strong--who is teacher/who the student. You lay it all out beautifully in this vivid and moving poem. Peace to your little teacher--and you. :)