Ease

Helplessness. Fear. The pain of watching someone you love in pain.

Close your eyes. Step away from Here, step into There.
I Myself, Spirit in Flesh, Speak.

Sunshine on my back, breeze across your face. Grass beneath my legs and I am seated now, with your head in my lap. You're speaking softly, but the words are indecipherable. It doesn't matter though, they the words are irrelevant. This is the slow drain of poison from a wound, voice and air to pain long-left hidden. I do not need to bear witness to the words themselves, but only to the pain they come from as they hit the air and pop like soap-bubbles blown from the hand of a child.
My hands gentle across your face, stroking your head, running tender fingers across your cheeks, tracing the curve of your eyebrows and the quirk of your lips. Exploring the whorl of your ear and the line of your jaw; wordless comfort, silent acceptance, unspoken promise.

Slowly, slowly the words fade, the toxin tapers off, the wounds are cleansed and can heal. You can heal. My lips soft against your forehead in a last caress before your eyes open free of pain again.