I am the earth;
The dark damp mud under your shoes.
I am the ground.
I am the cold stone under the living, breathing moss.
I am a quivering branch in the stillness.
I am paper-thin.

Your hot hand on my frosted back
Carries me across a thousand years.
Pulls me from the turmoil of my agitated mind.
Hug me closer to your frame.
Your bones are boundaries that the darkest thoughts
Dare not cross.
Kiss me with compassion, gentle paintbrush strokes
Wetting my forehead.
Bring me home.
Keep me safe.