Tincture
Make me a tincture, friend.
Pour your highest words and deeds
potions for the mind and heart
wounds to heal stitches to be gently pulled
drop by drop infuse
the deepest sympathies
the grandest symphonies
the touch of a mother as babes are in need
make the tincture pleasant to taste
to a scorched tongue
easy to swallow and ingrained in each molecule
when ingested
where aspirations are built
and inspiration is carried.
Build me up from my battles
strengthen my bones
as it slips down my throat gently, gently
like a living river
may each day I sip be made anew
born anew
not bothered not spent
energy raw life well spent
honesty and purity in tincture as well
all the bad thoughts may it coat, wash away
the dirt of the past
and present dirt too,
make it special of rose, lavender and citrus perhaps
may I smell like wonder
make me wonder as a new child
make me born anew.
Anna Rozwadowska 2019
