undefended

what makes her life
eyelids closed no clenching
nary a creased corner crow sketched
lashes interlocked blocking blackness
thin dark line holding in hushed hints
of the day just made

what fills her spirit
da-dum of her heartbeat
like a tireless two-step tango
an unending dance swaying in stillness
rib cage rhythmic in its in and out
four winds fill these dry bones

what has she to hold on to
slender, fine-pointed fingers slightly curled
pinky askew glued
round my hand like
holding on to flotsam at sea
resting in the long shadow
of the almighty

Written by Scott Moore
Illustrated by Landon Wideman

Inspired May 2021