Conversation

Despair at times overcomes me
and may last for days
like snow that turns into wet slush.

I no longer know who I am,
but am ruled by fear
that shreds my regarded self-trust, 

then am amazed
when I’m lifted by the scruff of my neck
as I might a kitten

and offered a saucer of milk.
Once again, I’m smitten
by how much like a child I remain,

only trusting when I am touched,
corrected with gentle compassion
and stern words of love.