We Are Carried
on walking through life accompanied by the sound of the human heart.
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Late at night I walked into his bedroom, pulled the blue striped comforter off his head, pushed his golden hair from his eyes, and gushed over his beauty.
The growing body, the lips, the eyelashes, the wildness spreading, flourishing, there in my home, in this quiet, dimmed room down the hall.
I couldn't contain the love pouring from me and into him, nor could I stop it. I didn’t have to choose one thought willfully. Instead, it was more like a spell or incantation moving from the night sky, through me, into this wee sleeping body of my child. I seem to be bestowing tiny, hushed praise on my children out of sheer devotion to whatever made me.