Wednesday, 14 December 2016

On vulnerability

from the fragmentation
to the dissolving
light emerges
I notice

the little bud shooting out 
but it is winter my love
the tiny infant wrapped up tightly 
oh it's good to be a father 

the opening in the circle
world streaming in
her sleeping face
heart racing

the robin on the wooden arch
still-life in a milli-second
her hands - so slim and so pure
yearning for her touch

kindness and then cruelty
turning - in moments of despair
feeling protective
of her vulnerability

and then my vulnerable self laid bare 
catching my breath
hole opening
and being caught

by the other
by humanity
by our shared story 
our vulnerability

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