Mom 1

They say the body is just a house,

but what if the walls start whispering?

What if the pipes fill with fear

and every heartbeat sounds like knocking?

You sleep under hospital lights soon,

the hum of machines counting the seconds-

i wish i could steal back.

I bring paper ghosts--

a Care Bear in Halloween colors, 

a clumsy offering of love printed in ink

because i cant fix the things inside of you.

You used to tell me the stars listened when no one else does.

So I talk to them, 

ask them to shine a little softer on you,

to tuck you into their silver arms

until your body forgets the ache.

If you wake up scared,

I want the first thing you see

to be the world still waiting--

and me, still here,

a heartbeat away,

learning to love

is sometimes just the act 

of staying.

I Love you.