But, also, you are a poem.
Child, know: you are a one-line poem, breaking
rules, breaking over lines in determination
never to be broken.
So much more than just words on a page,
you are the all-consuming flame. You engulf the core—
you are the core—of my being. I hear you
in your silence. Your sounds
shape how I move. Your touch stills me.
You are a child. You are my child.
I bled you into being. I bled you
out of my soul and I bleed now
sending you out into the world.
Child, know: you are everything I could make you.
But, also, you are much, much more. I bleed now
sending you out in faith,
sending you out as lines unspoken.
About this piece
I wrote this about my relationship with words. First Published on Medium.com.