This poem took sixty-five years to ripen and about an hour to put on paper. The healing of my prenatal traumas and environment were an essential part of that lifelong process.
Would now that I could take in mine
the hands that left their marks
or, quiet, hear anew the words
that cut my heart and left
If I could look into all eyes
that ever showed me
rage or hate,
just to touch
would for me be the greatest gift
I might this day bestow
or could this day receive.