SHELTERING ARMS

SHELTERING ARMS

Helpless as a baby or a wounded bird,
I lie in the fold of your sheltering arms.
Sunlight through the window fades,
A benediction and a blessing.

Your fingers stroke my forehead,
Knead my aching shoulders.
Close of day creeps silently,
Moonlight fills the bedroom.

Helpless as a street person sleeping on the corner grate,
I turn to you for solace, kindness in your countenance.
Swimming in the pleasures of the flesh,
As we make our way toward paradise.

A world of wonder, this precious patch of earth.
Haven for lovers, refuge for gypsies,
A weary traveler on the brink.
Helpless as I pause to think, where I’d be without you,
Here in the lamplight, stroking my hair.

Helpless as a naked man in a haystack full of needles.
Life has pricked me sharp and deep, pummeled me relentlessly.
But in this room just you and I have our date with destiny.
Helpless in a world we know, a world we trust implicitly.

Be patient with me love, for I break and crumble easily,
Like rubble from a structure fire, fanned aflame by a careless match.
So rock me gently in this chair, helpless as a baby or a wounded bird,
Sing to me your lullaby and I will hang on every word,
Helpless in the fold of your sheltering arms.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED