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Your Whispering Touch

Lisa Katherine Hughes


My soul screams at the memory of the pain.
Mother is burned as a child
She cowers in the corner
Please, please leave.
Let me be
Your whispering voice tells me you love me as your searing
hands tell me everything you say is a lie
Your presence follows me to sleep each night.
Peace will not enfold me
I dream of a time when I may feel another’s arms around me and
not be scared or hate or die a little
Love brings life to my soul.
You kill me each time your cold hands touch me.
Mother’s sweet spirit is crushed
The sweetness stolen as a bee molesting a flower.
Yet mother remains surrounded by the pleasant aroma
��of peace
��of strength
��of self.



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