A dust storm has hit me broadside,
taking away my breath.
My thoughts have gone to peripheral swirl
because that's where my breath went.
I take a step to the wild side,
an eddy snatches me running swift.
A hand reaches out and I trust it -
I surge toward this rescuing gift.
Tender I am, and fearful too,
but another spinning step I take,
toward the fare I see just ahead,
thinly gauzed, but make no mistake
that I trust this hand and guide it to me,
my breast, my breath, my heart.
It does me such love such yes such such -
a new meaning for the word apart.
Then I remember we are not always awhirl.
Another moment and I give myself pause.
Imps urge me to forge boldly ahead,
more powerful ask for just cause.
Too fragile a state I linger now in,
too tired, too lonely, despite friends.
I've withered and wandered the woods for surcease.
Here one comes, and I want it to end.
A wedge of unease shifts the current I am in,
Crosswinds blow me about.
Now the trustworthy hand seems too well attached
to the logic in this fierce man's ardent mouth.
draw me close again
hold me dear
whisper whisper
beauty in my ear
