My Child

No one told me:

when you come forward,
when you step crookedly,
when you have a sideways view,
debating what you or society tells you

when you drop expectation
between should or have to be

you’re exposing your heart,
hearing yourself whisper:
can you love me this way?

Broken?
Ashamed?
Hurt?

Lost?
Scared?
Confused?

Your voice reverberates
as if you need to hear yourself
repeat unanswered questions.

Silence.
You lose the ease of breathing.
Tensed legs.
Long, uninterrupted stares.

Then: I do. I will. I have.
Pouring over you a serein,
no looming doubt overhead.

This voice is small, kind,
knows the will taken to hang
from a cross for you.

Naked.

Your self-hatred.
Your loneliness.
Your fear.
Your anxiety.
Your shame.
Your loss.

A crown atop loveliest head.
Prickling thorns incising.
Blood.
Death.

Rose again.

I AM the Resurrection & the Life,
I saved your life, my friend.

No one told me:
This Man, Jesus, will make you
the little girl He never shames
for continuous questioning:

Why do You love me, Daddy?

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4 thoughts on “My Child

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