He went straight to the room
at the very very back
where Little Girl lay very still
and didn't cry.
His robe was dusty, stained with salt;
it smelled of fish and workingman.
His hands were callused, worn and scarred
with fishinglines, woodwork, and nails.
He touched my cheek
I told Him all the things
we Never Tell Anyone.
I drenched his shoulder with a child's
He smiled with me.
Dawn glows new on Mount Rainier
where His feet dance
and my heart dances, too.
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