I’m not sure I do much,
but open doors, set up chairs,
provide a place to read,
talk, write; which is enough
and yet, is not enough
to beat back the belligerence
barking like a spittle-flecked
beast. I can’t save them
from what is to come,
nor always be there to speak
amiably into their distress,
and voiceless traumas.
But there is this room,
an open door, and a chair.
(March 27, 2018)
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