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These precious things
I hardly thought of in my brittle youth
I was alive and free and not diverted
By the needs of others or the truth
The greater weave of history and sacrifice so far away
From my comfortable, ordered every day
These precious things were thoughts
Not feelings and never held
Close to a heart barely awake
And not yet born

These precious things
The blood of others and their gifts
That heal the pain that’s shared
And close the rifts
Between the many systems of belief and care
I hardly saw them there
I had television, books and such
To give me what I craved
And all too much
A surfeit of a diet glutted down
With nothing fine
And nothing good

But not these precious things
A gentle surety and care
Of something greater lingering there
Just out of sight but not so out of reach
That all the walls of indifference
Could not yet be breached
Just love, this simple thing
But greater than every fibre deep within
Could promise succour
And a place to begin
We must protect them
Hold them dear
These precious things

(c) Helen Valentina 2016