Thunder, Not Fierce

And though it breaks the silence
it is in its own way quiet,
and disturbs me not,
but rather, calms.

Old friend, come again?
I know this conversation,
these familiar turns of phrases,
and fall asleep to the rhythm
of your old world mother tongue,
wrapped as I am, an infant.

Watch over me, again
tonight and tomorrow, perhaps
until I am whole, or nearly so,
and do not need your legs to stand.

Old friend, will you come again?
You are not fierce.
I know your old tremors,
wrapped as I am, an infant.

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One Response to “Thunder, Not Fierce”

  1. Greer Says:

    Beautiful.

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