PANACEA by Ada Thelma Iyke
Dear broken spirit,
I bring you soft whispers and small kisses like a mother's touch to a bruised knee.
As you lie crushed and downcast in solitude, I bring you words of comfort.
I bring you oil to grease the rusted parts of your heart.
I bring you ointments and bandages, salve for your wounds.
Let my arms wrap you, leaving your pain engulfed by the poisonous elixir of love that pours out from my being; poisonous to the very pain that so nibbles at your essence. Let my shoulders be the pillow that gets soaked with your tears,
never getting too wet to take more.
Let my eyes be a beacon that emblazes your soul.
Let my words relax the throbbing muscles of your mind.
Let them, these words I speak, like water to a fire, quench the rage in your soul
So that the smoke rises with ash, ashes that settle and become fertilizers for other hurting souls.
Let me be your panacea.
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