I dreamed I held you.
And not just waking, whimsical daydreams
of light and innocence.
But in the fullness of night when visceral passions
Infuse every muscle with knowing.
I held you.
I reached through my skin.
Held you warm, and earthy in my arms.
Minute perfection, blazing and pulsing with life
Vital and healthy and whole.
Enveloped in the divinely crafted,
Interwoven nest of my hands.
Once, I dreamed I handed you to your father,
Whose brow is your largest mirror,
Whose heart is likewise etched
With the knowledge of your being.
Your existence is not for scientific speculation.
Nor a weapon in spiritual revolution or political debate. It is fact.
True as the existence of all the heavenly bodies.
The stars, of which you are made,
Are not merely theoretical
For humanity's frail inability to touch them.
For F. J. J.
Jennifer D. Behnke - June 7, 2014 - 4:35am
Rancor, there is none, rather, a surrender to the will of a higher Being. I know this kind of loss,which stays with us and yet reminds us that we have been blessed with a heart so great, that we can absorb it as well.
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