I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me; but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand, even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings!
Extract from Poem
Please Hear What I am not…
Words 3144 - Pages 13