I want what is acceptable for dogs,
to curl up beside the sick and dying,to lean into another knowledge,
provide a place for someone‘s hand
when anything else falls short for comfort.
Children have that.
Remember how they lay for daysin the golden hay of old stalls.
While their four-footed friends
drift between them and death.
Remember the shoe-box
ceremonies for birds and kittens,fish and gerbils. The unspoken
heart-hurts and songs
given to the end of day.
The language of animals and children
begins and ends with touch,a drawing near, a wordlessness
where everything is said
simple and easy – like the breath of God.
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