Swampland

Drifts of sulphur mists

A burnt shock

Upon humid rock

Choking on rifts

Of barren land

She is found there

Rancid and scared

Nothing to hold;

Everything scolds

I build her a space

Of safety and grace

Flimsy at first

But, feeling less cursed

I build her some more

Candles and covers

Equilibrium at the core

Peaceful slumber returns

Of this rest, she yearns

I tell her -

I will return

A hope churns

She lifts