Somewhere between earth and heaven,
I find a hide-away haven
when I'm held gently in your arms.
My ship sailed into safe harbor,
frayed and battered like a warrior.
Seasick, depleted, it needed
only to be anchored, restored,
resting on shore before casting
off once more in murky water.
Time and tensions cease for awhile.
Inside peace embrace, I can face
stormy gales, sharks and whales--and smile!
Ah, the comfort of being cradled in arms of love! Contented babies know the assurance of being cared for and enjoyed, not resented or ignored. Touch is a primary need we never really outgrow. I still remember my Mama's gentle hand on my hurting tummy, my daddy's strong embrace. Being held by a friend who understands or a covenant life partner nourishes something inside us as needy as food to our physical bodies.
Some so long for touch that they sell their morality for it. I cry for young girls who offer their virginity in exchange for what they think is love, giving something so valuable for cheap, temporary imitations. Nursing homes are filled with precious residents who languish with longing for a loving hug. Even macho guys need embracing. Tho' I can't recall who wrote it, I remember an article in an old Reader's Digest by some grown guy, going through a rough time, who made a trip home specifically for the comfort of being "tucked in" once more by his mother. And what man doesn't benefit from a memory of his dad's arm thrown about his shoulders in approval and camaraderie?
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