Member Poem

I come as a gentle friend.
A mother weeps
As her child suffers.
I cool his cruel fever
With my soft, loving touch;
His pain is now ended.
But the young mother,
Not comforted, weeps louder
As her child grows still.
 
Still, though she curses my name,
Though I could not relieve her pain,
I will return again
To this small hovel;
She has other children
Also suffering,
Waiting for my touch
To gently set them free.