Years ago, I fell.
When I woke up, I was in a deep pit
and all of me hurt.
I cried for help, but no one could hear me.
For days, I cried.
And then, I began to climb.
And every small foothold made me happy.
I am still in the pit.
Perhaps I'll be there all my life.
But I can feel the sun on my cheeks
and thus it dries no tears.
And even though I am as small
as my most petty weakness
and thus very small indeed
and the rocks that surround me are tall and steep,
I know they are made by the same hands
that once eased me to sleep.
We are as we were
when we were children.
Our long days are ended with a kiss.