Nieces

She’s looking up at me.

Careful, watchful, brilliant blue, green, gold.

Mind churning with silent observations she won’t truly understand until her heart’s been broken.

She’s learning the way I breathe deep,

How my shoulders tense,

Where my eyes wander,

What makes my eyes dim and brighten back again.

She sees me quiet, curled up on my corner of the couch;

armor dismantled.

She hears my real laugh, belly deep;

worries forgotten.

She knows my love, arms thrown wide;

ready to catch her.

She knows I am safe, a harbor for tears ripped open;

when the world outside rages against her.

 

She reminds me of my place here,

that words matter,

actions matter…

that I matter.

She’s looking up at me…
And there is no other choice,

 

but bravery now.

 

cswhitlow

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