Woven
When I reach over
and touch your hand,
our fingers entwine,
and loose segments of me
begin to mend
and adhere to
broken segments of you.
My past, your past,
our defeated fathers, dispirited mothers,
sickle-celled self-hatred,
and disquieted memories dissipate
as our wan hearts swell
and we become whole.
No trite phrases can explain
how we regain virtuousness through love
and become all we were destined to be
in each other’s arms.
Shawn R. Jones
website: www.shawnrjones.com
Author of the devotional book, Pictures in Glass Frames http://t.co/BxiNwWRG
and the poetry chapbook, Womb Rain,
