is torn again.
Words like scissors cut, so easily snip away
what's left of narrow membrane,
his fragile hold on life.
Unknowing she severs, no harsh intent.
No vindictive wish urges her
to commit the accidental crime
that rents him
on the insides.
Tears spill once more.
Paper is wet.
She cannot bear to watch,
admit to herself that maybe she has watered the rain,
prompted the storm that pours inside him.
It saddens her
to know where he has been
and why it takes so little
to damage him.
Although his heart is harmed easily
she gathers strength from him,
yet he struggles to stand upright.
At times she carries him.
She must cradle his brittle hear.
His gentle nature lends him power
but not always control.
He will someday grow to trust,
learn to hold his own.