You came to me
like the mother of a long-lost daughter
Your running towards me
ended with a hug
embracing wounds from the inside
with tears that healed with their flow.
Does it mean less because it happened in a dream –
accessible as a fruit plucked from a branch?
Does it mean less because it was given so freely?
I will be black soil
and soak up the rain
– the flower that spreads its fragrance
as it turns toward the sun