by Mary-margaret Belota

The pain of loss
sometimes leads to a shutdown,
a firm resolve:
Not again will I travel this road
because I know its sorrowful destination.

Yet here you are,
my little corn silk covered motorboat,
idling in my arms,
trust and contentment intertwined
until I feel my own purr rising.

From huddling in a sad shelter cage
to bouncing, pouncing, skidding joy,
you have morning-gloried my heart.

Resolve be damned -
we are both rescued!

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