Help me, he whimpers.
He believes that in the warmth of my touch,
As I hold his face, tap his back,
As he lays on the fold of my arm,
his pain will dissipate, whoosh, like magic disappear.
He is no fool; he knows I am no doctor
Not even a nurse,
I am just Mamma
yet in ‘me’, he trusts to soothe his aches.
He believes that I can will his pain away and till then,
I will try a hundred things to make it better
And if nothing else, I will hold him,
rock him till sleep takes over,
at least for a short while.
Help me, he says
And his voice brings everything in my world to a stop,
Because in that whimper
is a trust that can move mountains!