July 18 at 6:44pm ·
Refuah Shlema ~

The body is an ecosystem.
All the flora and fauna that live
and die and live again and
battle. A universe
of beings, the ghosts
of memory and attempts both
fruitful and thwarted.
Soldiers adorned in white armor
muster and rally, defeat
insurrections, lose
battles. We are reborn.

How many times has this woman
stood at my bedside, her hand
on my forehead, her cheek
on my cheek, sitting, standing
not tiring – no, so tired.
Just not leaving.

When you visit the sick
you take some illness away
with you. Not in you.
Don’t worry.
You don’t take on their illness.
You carry some away
like in a basket.

But, a mother doesn’t worry.
She would take it in her
to take it away.
You who lived in the universe
of her body or
a citizen of her heart if
not her physical body.
She wouldn’t worry.
She is a soldier, too.

So, I stand here. My hand
on her forehead, my heart
wanting to be so strong
as to beat for hers as well.
So fragile the borders
of this now tiny universe
this warrior heart pulsing
its rallying drumbeat.
My cheek upon her cheek.
Her heart my native land.

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