the child poem (unfinished)

you were feather soft

in my memory

but concrete

in reality

breathe deeply

lean into the ache

of easing your grip

on something that never was

open your hands

and receive this

you are the love song

in my soul

arms that held me

newborn and bruised

hardened into

words like crystal treasures

precious to me, but not warm

eyes open slowly

much more dim at first

than i’d expected

child wrapped in skin

the heat of your pounding blood

to be innocent is such a rebellious thing

do you feel lonely, child, with your eyes open so wide?

this this life

trusts without trying

and drifts into dreams without fear

how are you so brave, small one?

can you lend me

that courage

child of clay

and stardust

you are not broken yet

the substances

holding your bones together

are fragile still

not built to last


we are not broken born

but breaking

child still,

hold your head high

never be ashamed to cry

unfurling like flower petals

hungry for the love of the sun

my body expands

fingertips rough against

the heartbeats

what an addlepated thing it is, to love

and what an unasked-for gift, to be able to feel your fingertips

Brush mine. The whole world is breathless


child, made of warmth

fill your lungs with hope

begin the daily journey

of remembering who you are

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