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  • Lorraine Johnson

[127] Hold You High

Up the peeling bark we go

down again, we all do fall

fast or slow, we grow or forego

climb up again we make the crawl

some in sight, others not

saving face behind the wall

the fair-and-square,

or the lion's share

that's all we bring

to the town square.

the humming bee

—it does the work

commits to place,

with no big fuss

it finds its way

it takes its space

builds its strength,

with watchful eye

stands tall and high

the sentient elephant

—under velvety ears

cares with trunk

and mourns its love

rumble, rumble goes its feet

spreading the word

so others don't fall

in the superheat

of the race to all

stir the pot, add the salt

—scramble, scramble

through the sweet amble,

of no return

—scramble, scramble

no time to fall,

though fall you must

loving hands lift you up,

holding you high against the tide

hum, hum

memory serves

rumble, rumble

the call was heard

—like the power of wind

gently whispering you through

a dark yet moonlit night.


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