You mother me

 

let me suckle; my weary head

pillowed on your breast

your safe arm

like an angel's wing

holds me, warms me.

Your saint's hands heal

my inner wounds

your kisses, medicine,

your sweet words, balm,

your arms around me,

I am calmed.

Kick starting my engine

fired up that rusty cylinder

this is what you have given me

a second coming

a new religion

I believe in you

as my destiny.

 

Negril, Jamaica, 1996