Wanting

Wanting child, forever reaching, looking to be loved, stretched at our feet, clinging, desperate, angry at lack, confused at hate, looking for truth in our lies. Stabbed and bleeding, yet stumbling forward...trying to live. How long can you wait to be loved? How long can your life-blood flow unchecked, unstopped, untended? Watch as you faint, fall and lie still. There is still a pulse, weak as it is. A hand warms you, creating questions, new grief at the wonder of compassion that exists. Touched by love after early death as sun warms earth after early frost. Almost gone, but not quite. Saved...by a touch.