I embraced my son
at the airport after a year abroad.
I was paper, he was fire, in a good way.
I hadn't thought until now
how much he might be like I was,
ready to learn almost anything
in spite of love's unspoken quotient,
trusting more in curiosity than God,
and not knowing that when he is older,
he will see it was God winking all along.
But I was wiser then, befriending the spark,
letting myself be consumed a little by the heat,
before I wrote of the binding-post.
No comments:
Post a Comment