Open

We reach out to the ones who nurture,
blindly extending and feeling through the dark
fumbling, hoping to grasp a hand.
The compassionate ones are able to expand,
soak up other's sorrows into their pores
and keep the needful from the far fall

For some it is inevitable to fall
the ones who forget what it means to nurture
leaving them open and exposed; their pores.
Their yearning to be comforted gets worse in the dark,
when they're alone and their imagination expands
the thoughts seem existent until they realize their hand.

She would always lend a hand,
tender and alive in the nippy air of fall.
The time of year when the trees expand
for one last breath which will solely nurture
through the winter and lengthening dark,
until the new damp air surges back into their pores.

Her motherly nature went deeper than her pores,
Sheltering her child with nothing but a hand.
She was wholesome, not a cell of her dark,
Never into evil would she fall.
Her purpose for this boy was to nurture;
Wrap him in her arms as his life expands.

Her boy’s mouth would expand,
Growing to let out a scream before shrinking to the size of a pore.
Telling his mother it was time to nurture.
On his back she would lay her hand,
circling like leaves on the ground in fall
not ceasing until his lids made everything dark.

With her peace she would make her tea dark
And watch as the bag would fill with water and expand.
Into sleep she wouldn’t let herself fall,
only able to relax half of her pores.
When she slipped she would wake with a jerk of her hand
And wait for the seed she intended to nurture.

If we’d all had one to nurture us through the dark,
we could hand out our hearts for others to expand
and keep our pores open so no others would fall.