You hold me
with a touch,
And keep me
in the moment.
But I’m on
to you,
on to your complexity
of emotion,
delusion, careening.
You ping me
for awhile,
But know that
I’m a bit wise.
Enfold me or entreat
me,
but I’m here
on the ground.
Crash, bam,
lay it out.
And with a
rueful smile, I
collect,
absorb and endure.
This love is
what it is, my son,
Just for you.
You rush toward
moments that cannot
change what Just Is.
The straight
line is,
The jagged
edges are,
Unconditional
Love.
No comments:
Post a Comment