These precious children,
drawn and quartered by their father;
used as weapontry upon their mother.
I surround them to bring shelter;
provide a lean-to against the arrows
that seek to disillusion their souls.
They stand with hearts open, loving him;
not knowing where his heart is.
They love blind,
while their mother and I keep our words
against him from our mouths, knowing he will
continue to wipe them from his feet.
And, when their tears come,
I pray I am always there to catch.
(C) Debby Sorensen Carlson
April 14, 2009









18 old applause
