Hold Still

She fell into this home with tears.
She poured herself slowly into
my side of the town, band room, church,
I loved her then for her satin hair
and later for her nose and teeth.
She grew in us to find a sun
that lit her path as she graced ours.
One day, I found myself without
her button shoes and river eyes.
When I turned around years later,
after breaking my first spirit,
I felt I’d lost my baby pink.

I’d lost my red, my shoes, my white.
I’d lose my fire, I’d lose my ice.
I’d found the numbness fear instills.
I’d find the coolness of the slice.

Baby pink found me on the floor,
she pulled me up, dusted my sleeve,
on the way home she made meswear
to get rid of the things that bleed.

She left her light there in my chest,
pulled me to her car, drove away,
Showed me that darkness at its best
never covers the color love.

Then she carried me to the store
bought brown sugar and muffin mix.
She would sweeten me up, she swore,
so that I could make it the week.

Pink lady grew up in warm rooms
with pink women surrounding her.
She put her soft life in my way
‘tween the metal world and stone wall.
Before the frozen wave of love,
after the hot sting of distance,
her cotton hands held mine tightly.
Never one to neglect His birds,
she drew me back into His nest.
And when the final hurt crept in,
she pulled a blanket over my ache
and wrapped her arms to hold me still.