She asked,
“What is this?”
She wondered
Because it was so soft and tender
Like a delicate flower gliding from her palm, so smooth
Spread, then blended with the warm air and the sparkles of sunlight
How lovely
She has never felt something so tender in her life
You shook your head, smiled
Then put them in her small hands
Day by day
Hour by hour
And never stop
“What is this?”
You gave something so tender,
To the one who only knows shard of glass
Or knives
Or piercing noises
Bruises and wounds all over her veins
“What is this?” she asked again.
“Close your eyes. Place your hand on your chest. How does it feel?”
-
“It is something that you can only feel. You can feel it there.
In your heart.”
