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It’s how we hold a newborn babe,
or touch an orchid petal -
a tentativeness to our ways
as lightly our hands settle.
It’s how we wipe a tear-streaked cheek
and how we kiss the dying -
a delicateness for the meek
while we, inside, are crying.
A way we are, in tenderness,
a way all ought to be -
in kindly, loving gentleness
show mercy, gingerly.
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