Her Alchemy

a poem

I am breathless,

bound with her life,

captured by grace,

her gospel complete.


And her alchemy pure,

humanity tactile ablaze,

with nature’s shorn fields,

she cradles mine, unknown.


Amidst all magical din,

rising tremors, full and flawed,

she unveils her skin, displaying,

wounds too fresh.


A thief, pain shared,

unchartered, by delivery,

whole and bloodless,

clean and untorn.  

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed