Who am I

Instinctively I reassure

I am polite in crisis,

That’s me, oh boy, what

A specimen indeed

My mother taught me

Never to create a scene

Everywhere therefore

I stay invisible

No crying child, I

Grieve in private, within

My safe cocoon

Not to trouble others

Broken, hollowed and

Beaten down, without

Any hope of remedy

I am but a lost cause

I soothe and support

I bolster the other

While I labor to breathe

I’m the wind beneath their wings