I Go With Them


In the early light she asks me
For protection from the world.
She prays for her family,
For her innocence,
For her tortured soul.
She moves closer to me.

She calls me father
But holds no clear image of what I am.
She wants to be a saint,
An artist,
A wealthy woman.

Her little boy shouts
Mommy, it’s today!
And they are gone,
Plunging into a freshly painted world of play.
I go with them.


~ Russ Allison Loar
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