• Crysta


Sweet beautiful you,

sitting across the table from me,

tears welling, rolling, running

as you hold your face in your hands

contemplating a quick escape.

You talk of the man who can toss you lightly,

hold you and handle you,

make you small and delicate

weightless in need

of protection and defense.

And how it’s lovely to be held

to be the delicate flower,

the exquisite, intoxicating scent,

just for a minute.

Such a relief it is,

from carrying the weight

of the world,

of your difference, your shine,

your gifts

and all the things you are still learning to balance.

Still learning to hold,

still learning to know.

To be freed, for a minute,

from all that is to be a healer,

to be one step ahead,

or a little far out.

To know, for a minute,


beyond the sheer joy of his hands

on your body

holding, supporting, honouring


Just for a minute.

photo cred: Pinterest