What Love

Last night I dreamt of meeting a friend's new baby. 

She presented it to me - a boy- with all motherly

 love and conviction. 

She smiled, cooed, and 

doted over her little one. But the baby had

been born 

in 

pieces. 

While she held the limbless body 

tucked against her neck, 

the little one's head was on the carpet

next to an arm, a leg. 

In the dream she must have seen my worry for

she patiently explained how,

slowly,

the baby would become 

whole

and 

normal. 

She wasn't worried, she was happy, content, and beaming love.

I awoke sad and not a

little disturbed. I can still still remember

the blue eyes of her boy

and how I tried to make sure that no one

stepped on the little arms.

I can still remember that effortless 

love that she radiated

and wonder what that would be like

to wear for a day.

For a day to trust that

it will all work out.

To believe that what I make will 

add up to something

beautiful and

heart stopping.

To have faith

faith 

faith

that pesky word that 

at times

seems to be too heavy to carry and I

cast it off to hold something easier like

maybe

or

probably.

I held that baby - even if in my dream I was 

slightly repulsed by him-

for I would never turn away from 

a friend's child,

so why turn away from myself?

Am I afraid that the world will see that I am

not whole

that growing still needs me

or I need it?

When did I give myself the Title of Most Unworthy One?

It is time to 

take hold of my most repulsing self and

love it like a friend's child

with all the joy and 

hope for a future,

with all love and compassion

with all belief and faith and love.