What Hand

What Hand

What hand delivers
all these pains?
These joys?
These days?
These sufferings?

What mind directs
the wind and rain
that howl
and swallow
and surround?

What dawn may break
to draw the day
all rose
and gold
and cinnamon?

What breath might fall
upon this cheek
to warm,
caress,
awaken me?

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