A toddler’s hand
swallowed whole
in a mother’s hand,
a life created
a destiny born

Is your path
adorned with stones
or Potholes
that never go dry?
Or Samaritans

The good kind,
masked behind
the faces of strangers around,
with rock-solid shoulders
and warm embraces

Does your reflection
tell stories?
Of unquenchable hope
and tunnels that end
in bright light and better times

Will you be my brother,
my sister? My Friend?
If at The Gates I were asked
For one among many
Will I proudly say your name?

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