Love, polished and pure

On the whole

your love is good,

pure and polished.  

But say

on the school yard

your son does bad

action one day

-like- perhaps hurting another,

maybe too brusque for taste,

too boy in the moment

embarrassing you,

or perhaps, worst

exposing imperfections.

So you withdraw

symbols of love

-like- eye contact,

caresses,

silly smiles, voice

and he cries.

He sobs,

begins to shake

like a child

(he is a child)

He reaches up,

to nothing,

or crouches down

into a tiny ball.

“I’m sorry” he whispers

between tears,

hoarse, paused,

then adds

“I’m scared”.

“Daddy?”

Then, only then,

do you cry

begin to sob,

to sob with him,

for him,

sobbing alone

from a hurt inside

as wide as the sky

And then, right then,

do you know

what love was,

and just what

it might become.

-Glenn Kenyon, 2010