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Seeing you about to cry
I reach to comfort you
and you jerk away.
My girl, I know it too well…
isolating yourself, knowing
that accepting compassion
will loose the tears.
How did you learn so young
to abuse yourself with shame
at the thought of wet eyes?
And you say I just don’t get it.
but I do… I get it, I had it,
we gave it to you.
I want to take it, now,
off your tiny shoulders.
But, I can’t force you
to give yourself a break.
I slow a bit, and let you walk
your own pace, in your own space.
Wanting to shelter you,
I let go a little.
When you’re ready again
you’ll come lean on me.
I’ll hold you for hours
as I have before and,
without too many words,
you’ll know you can always
depend on me
for shelter or for space.
I’d hold back volcanoes,
floods, earthquakes,
to give you the time you need,
though they are easier restrained
than this instinct that demands
that I hold and protect you
when you’re on the verge
of tears.