sweet child,
your heart reached toward your mother with an ancient expectation.
here, i may rest.
here, i may he held.
here, i need not keep watch.
you were lovable before she knew how to love you.
worthy of gentleness
in the moments she could not offer it.
worthy of gentleness
now
even if she never learns to give it.
you built walls
in a season when you needed shelter.
and learned to gather
your own scattered pieces.
but what is precious may be lost, forgotten, or hidden
without ceasing to be precious.
and your own saving grace
need not be the only grace
you ever know.
you can be your own refuge
and still welcome a visitor.
you can stand firmly within yourself
and still lean against another.
you can hold the key
and choose, moment by moment, whom to let in.
come toward the light, sweet child.
let it touch the places in you
that have grown accustomed
to darkness.
