Tell My Child

Tell my child if I am not to live
my spirit is here always ready to give -

a comforting cwtch when Life turns cold
from a crystal cove where Love is sold.

Or an honest word when lies abound
to walk with grace over thorny ground.

Tell my child on those linament nights
that her fevers pass through healing lights.

And when she weeps as people must
to bury doubt and lay with trust.

Be not afraid to touch on death
where you will thrive with every breath.

Ignore the slights from jealous lips
and their bitter souls in a lonely grip.

Oh wondrous gib, oh child of mine
shun the snakes who trust in wine.

And guard against those solemn pews
with paper hearts that lie to you.

But I need not worry or dent the sky
because you were brewed by an oracle eye...

@Steven Francis poems 2010