or its silence

See you as the gift

you are

cradled in my rough palms

and steadfast when you tell me

You would get along fine without me

(I know, as you know i would walk a little slower,

But still walk without you)

Sometimes the hands of the clock

Fall like a club to the base of my skull

And all this bear needs

Is a warm, soft comb of my fur

A little honey,

Enough frivolity to draw me

From my cave

Blinking in the bright sun of your insight

It takes a woman to know where

To hurt a man

And sometimes it heals

Stronger, rougher than before

So, come, wrap yourself around me

Be small with me

I grow stronger.

Equal to the volume

Of the call

Or its silence