My battered heart soaks
up the sunshine.
Warmth's fingers wrap around me
and my shuddering sobs still.
There is still a heaven.
There is still a God who cares.
I sense it in the caress of the sunlight.
The beams light up a little girl's straight, blonde hair -
shimmering in the afternoon blaze.
Whether it is her head or mine
I cannot tell.
Child of my present and child of my past.
Both need the warmth and comfort of the sun today.
It eases the cold, harsh reality
of living in a broken world.
Warm, milky tea
Soft comfort of a mother's arms
Fighting off dragon-dogs
And picking flower-food
a giggling heap in the sunshine
Are all medicine for crying alone.
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