Palms to sky

Tonight, I held his hand as he slept
and his hand filled my palm
and I remembered another night
when I held him as he slept
and his tiny hand wrapped around my finger
and my fingertip filled his palm
and I imagine another night yet to come
when he will hold my hand as I look up to him
and my hand will fill his palm.
My son.

We walked outside in the rain today.
He ran in front of me and knelt down in the puddle
pajamas and all.
He fell to his belly and laughed
as he splashed the muddy water upon him.
His baptism.
I let the raindrops fall upon my shoulders
and turned my face to the sky
and let the rain wash away a thin filmΒ 
from my bedraggled body.
My renewal.

Palms to sky
I stare at the blanket of stars above me
reaching out as if to pluck one off
like a piece of lint.
If only I could bring one down
and put it in my pocket
and surprise him someday
as we stand in darkness
and he tells me he is afraid.
If only, then, I could pull the star
from my pocket and put it in his palm
so he would always have a light to lead his way,
a star to guide him through the darkness
when he is afraid
when my hand is no longer there to fill his palm.

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