Because You Are


Because you are
tender to the world,
you feel too deeply.
The youngest scar
thinly at first.

Underneath, deep,
the nerves are raw,
they twist and leap.

And if I could,
I would not say,
build tissue.

I would not say,
flee, child, the world
is neutral and therefore cruel.

I would not say
build you scars thicker,
preen your callouses,
discipline your heart beat.

There is living.
There is grieving.
There is giving
and receiving.
And there is death.

There is a candle lit,
and a candle extinguished.
But between and among
there is you.

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