KITES ARE REAL
There he hanged in suspended agony with screams pelting
recluse eyes terrified in the glow of afternoon melting…
pockmarked face, ears filled with stain, bones clanking.
how can i soothe his pain borne from abandonment sighing
no name, birth date, parents---thrown in orphanage dying
Warm milk with nudging couldn’t slay nightmares moaning
games on the porch were not part of his toddler’s beginning
yet, tenderness and steeled patience came unknowing
kites after kites, my nephews claimed him as brethren belonging
slowly… he met my smile with his warm gaze lightly riding
Cheeks now more pink than clouds, he painted with hands winging
laughter in bubbly froth loosened grip of past remembering
how we cupped the moon at night, his ribs swelled with arms widening
i entered his healing waters, watched him steadily growing…
He was my hero; loving a stranger taught me to be life-giving.
*To E.J.… one who became my foster child for a year.
Janette Fisher's Hero Contest
by nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2011
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