dinner

There is this thought

that the more we wake up

the more joy infiltrates

the more bliss dominates

but how am I to believe this?

I eat

my dinner

and watch

my family

laugh, and drink

and make silly jokes

and I feel how much I love them, how much I fear this moment

to change

so it's easier to block it out, find something wrong

than to let my heart swell and break with the truth

that the love in this moment of laughter and health

is more than my little heart can hold

or my eyes can see

and so they fill

with tears

of discomfort

of fear

that this moment will pass today

or someday forever

be gone

from my lense

my glove

my table.

My children

chubby-cheeked, sweet eyed and sassy

My husband, strong and willed, optimistic

my skin clothed and hearth warm

that the need in my belly, should it not be filled

with this I could die

loveless, empty

void of blessing or luck

or worse

robbed of what beauty had given me so generously

right now in this moment

as they laugh and eat

my attachment grips me

tight

and I run

to the bathroom where mirrors are small

enough to avoid

and far where small sounds of weeping cannot

be heard and the cloth

of tissues can sweep away the open wounds of my strangling love

dumping me in the lap of the moment

revealing pain as truth and love

as duality. Moment as short.

Children as miracle. Husband mortal. Self;

permeable.