Dear Child,
I pray you never grow up to be like me. I mean...I want you to have all of my good qualities like...My love for words...my desire to be better...my willingness to learn and...my desire to bring people together. I want you to have all of those things. I want you to be a dreamer, a fighter, a lover, a revolutionary. I want you to pick up the pieces of my broken dreams and glue them together with your very existence. Take my hope and heal the wounds that life has inflicted upon me...and your mother...
Conceived in a constant state of quixotic carefree living...Birthed in a world of fear....Raised in a Universe of Love...
You have my eyes...the first time I saw you, is the first time I'd ever felt purpose in my life. Your smile gives me hope...for me...because Lord knows I'd given up. I became filled again...The coffin I called a body became a garden. Love was planted with the expectation that a future would grow...
I pray that you don't get my arms...too short to wrap around others to comfort them...I pray that you do get my shoulders though, broad enough to carry the weight of the world. We are Atlas. We do not shrug. We lift...burdens...pains...hopelessness...from others. Give them to us. Our love will conquer them all.
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2 comments:
This is beautiful. It was good to see you in December.
Great piece, brother. I pray that she has your heart and your giving nature. You've ALWAYS been there for me and if she has even an iota of that in her, she'll be as beautiful of a human being as her father.
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