there’s nothing gray about the color of your skin

i don’t know the name of this feeling,
or from whence it comes–
i don’t know where it began,
or if it has an ending (I hope not).

i’m unsteady on this path. sometimes it’s uncomfortable,
indescribable, awkward–
and other times it almost feels as though
you’re the predicate to a subject I had all but forgotten,
somewhere in the story of my life.

there’s a baby on my lap who won’t let me put her down.
she reminds me of you,
the way she looks up at me with inky brown eyes
so large and curious, and wondering.
when she locks her little arms around my neck
i hear “i trust you” in the babble of her burgeoning speech
and it’s the same as when you scoot closer to me at night,
holding your lamb,
and ask me to sing for you.

i don’t know the name of this feeling.
i don’t know where it began or where it will take me, or us
and even though I’m afraid,
i think I’ll be okay as long as you hold my hand.
i’ll hold yours. i promise.

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