A Journey to Belong

I see you holding that baby. Marveling . . .
How you come to be?
Do you know my voice?
Did I spend enough time talking to your mama’s belly?
You mine. I’m yours.
We belong to one another.

I see you holding that toddler. Marveling . . .
How you know to walk you must first step?
Do you know my steps?
Did you learn that stride from me?
My baby. Your dada.
You belong to me.

I see you holding that tiny hand. Marveling . . .
How you know to put your hand in mine?
Do you know where we going?
Did you learn your sense of direction from me?
My child. Your daddy.
You belong to me. We belong to we.

I see you hold that space between tiny hand and wedding band. Wondering . . .
How did you come to be?

Saying . . .
I cleared my missteps for your steps because in life’s journey we must be kept
from all the dangers, toils, and snares through which I already come.
Your breath, my life. I live; you live so I can breathe.
Can you breathe? Can I breathe? Can we breathe?
I’m yours, but you mine. Can’t take that from me.
We breathe freely.

I see you holding that wrinkled hand. Wondering . . .
How did this come to be?
My father. His child.
Looking up at me.
We belong to each other and we breathe breath together.