Comfort

Comfort her,

tell her what she needs to hear.

This game of hide and seek is a test,

find her and she'll let you near.

Comfort her,

look behind the thin veneer.

She's the glue, the skin, the mortar,

a hand to hold, a borrowed ear.

Comfort her,

show her that you see it clear.

She's not coping, her faith's eroding

with the ever-growing fear.

Comfort her,

like she's dreamt in salty tears,

locked in the toilet at many parties,

clouded by the German beer.

Comfort her,

take the reins and say you'll steer.

She'll forget her feminist roots

if you validate her and cross her frontier.