The Fountain

If you ask me to read,

  I’ll say only the good

   —in spite of what others might think

 

Once your blood has been spilled,

  and the cut is deep

   —my task to heal, not push to drug or to drink

 

If the pain is too great,

  my heart you may take

   —as I suture you back from the brink

 

From this deepest of wounds

  that I surround and embrace, as a fountain

   —where you may now drink

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

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