Deftly winding the bound cotton under her wound.
Pushing into the depths where there’s little room.
Fearfully forcing her to accept the punishments of my hand.
Unable to cry for fear she will know why.
Still nursing her back to health, my own desires I shelve.
Here for her needs, each painful move, as Gods healing proves.
Folding washed and put up, sitting with her when she can get up.
Listening for her night cries, between restless slumbering sighs.
Just as she seems on the mend, flesh separates, bleeding begins.
Encouraging, while discouraged, fearful she this will learn.
Hungry from her exhaustion, I ready her meals and teas.
Never complaining, no reward, but her health, gaining.
Forgive my failures tonight, I had to cry, but decided to write.