I HEAR YOU

Don’t speak, precious one.
I hear your cry a thousand miles away,
the silent tears strangling your throat, burning your eyes.

Come, young or old, and lay your head in my arms.
My lips against your cheek, as I have so often done in the past.
I’ll hum a lullaby of sleep, my arms protecting you,
and comfort will embrace you.

I’ll ease your sorrows with love as Yahweh would want.
I may not be seen, but I see you.
I may not be heard, but I hear you.
And I will slay the demons haunting you.

— Saskia Lynge / Hour 12