From Her Fingertips

He is the reminder I prayed for but didn't to believe existed. He listens, and when I think he doesn't see he watches. He is mine. And even when fear gets in the way, he is the mountain. Tall, dark and handsome, far from a cliché. He makes sense. Though he is impatiently patient and silently loud. I want to stop time with him. And he smiles. 

Talked to a lady today who had carried two boys in her womb, birthed them, fed them, nurtured them. Still she couldn't see how powerful she was. She created life. She created human beings. She created ten fingers and toes, smiles and giggles, the future.  She could only see the pain that caused her not to be able to breastfeed. She could only see the difficulties she had to bond. She could only see how difficult it all was.  I spoke to a woman today who loves her two sons. A woman that is a mother. A wife. A care giver. A creator of life.  She reminded me that we are goddesses, no matter or flaws or our difficulties, we create life. We give birth to life. 

I'm an emotional creature. And it's ok.   Don't let anyone tell you differently. It's how I love. It's how I give. It's how I recieve. There is no shame in feeling.  There is honesty and beauty in the palm of my hands. 

Back in the day they wrote love letters. Pen to paper, carefully chosen words. With ink, with pencil, blue, red, black. Sealed with a kiss or a sprits of perfume. Delivered days or weeks later.  We write love messages. On cell phones through messaging services. Instant, from my screen to yours. Simple. Quick. Love. 

I hope you will look at me and think I'm beautiful. With eyes that speak loudly when lips are still. Like you did eleven moths ago. As if I was made out of magic, and if you touched me I may disappear.  I hope you'll look at me with the passion of new love and the pride of having me by your side. That your love for me will be stronger now, deeper now, more intense now. I hope you'll look at me every day until forever, and that you'll never turn your gaze away. 

If I don't speak about it, if I don't think about it, if I don't acknowledge it, if I don't... Maybe it will go away.