Little Lamb

Today she bathed

In numbness

Counting numbers

On fingers and toes

Up half tiled walls

Tearing up at the confusion


Of elements versus milieu

Of they said

She said

He thinks

Cannot catch a wink

Of sleep

So she bathed

Like a lion

Wet and heavy

Face drooping


But she is full

Of it all

And to withdraw

Would mean release

A monumental decrease

Of longing stares

At her,

By her,

Her shepherd

The one with the worry wrinkles

Dressed as resilience

Hoping, begging, praying

That she can lead her lamb to water

A sip

A soak

An inch

A mile.

To wash away all that numbness

Will take a while


Today she bathed.




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