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Tho’ now I realize the hinge was stiff,
The door was heavy, and the constant riff
Of “Baby Do Not Leave Me” sounded sour
Because you’d had a fight with dad, and you,
Beneath your eggshell, self-protective glower,
Had grown compassion’s golden yoke so new,
You were confused, and did not know its name.

You held the café door and I had sense
That you had little need of self-defense.
That on the chilling fields of cosmic space
Each one of us is more than shouts and noise,
And even wars within the human race
Are scraps of laws no enmity destroys
Tho’ we may hit and hurt and bleed and blame.

I knew aggression from my wounded dad
Had opened up the roars of beast and bad
But through your kitchen-marred domestic row
You both held married vows of love for me.
So, broken dishes in the here and now
Would never smash your honed ability
To see your movements through a wider frame
And touch on inner strengths that soothe and tame.

Author: Damian Robin

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