again

I could turn my heart to every matter undefined, laced with sadness, uncertainty, less than what I wished for. I could.
I ache enough holding love, hugs from small arms, cherished hopes like late winter buds; a promise of spring. Still, I sing here.
Pregnant with tears, matters I nestle in silent tenderness, a sacred sip of reality. My boys grow beautiful. I hold my breath, sigh as time slips.
Determined to live toward sanity, I offer laughter, listen to silence between words, make safe a path for fragile friends. Aren’t we all? Turning my heart inside out, I pray.