Protection
#poem #yearofprophecies

I wind into a tight cord
expel ice-tipped thorns to repel
your good intentions.
You are not my troubled mind.
You are my always touchstone,
my center of reason, promise of peace.
In psychotic chaos, moments torn,
my instinct turns sharply inward.
Primal wariness, protection against
irrevocable reverberations of violence
shattering our sacred bond.