soft lips kissing soft baby skin

i see their faces change when they become mommas

everything softens a bit

which is fortunate, because with everything else, we are told to harden


with little people, we should soften

yeah, they are loud and messy and say things that might hurt our feelings

so do we

but we actually mean them


when I see my sister holding her new baby close to her chest

skin on skin

exchanging of some holy kind of love

only that a momma and daddy and baby can indulge in


soak it all in.

I would tell the babies to do it too

because you will want it so so much when you’re older, and feeling alone.

even when the world tells you that harder is better

you will want things soft, again.


soft lips kissing soft baby skin

warm and ancient

to a person who does not know what war is

and whose pain is universal in need.

to be fed, held, and loved on.


you are more innocent then I will ever be again

that is, if I make it to another person who mends

and loves and creates and gives.


soft lips kissing soft baby skin

that’s what I see today

and when I think about what it is I need,

and maybe what we all need,

is something a little softer.

One response to “soft.”

  1. One last thing, Josh, and then I will intrude no longer. You share so much with us, that I want to share something with you about “slow living”. My memories of “slow living” from my childhood:
    Sitting on the front porch listening to the soft, low nameless tune Grandpa is whistling, accompanied by the creak of the big swing as he slowly rocks it.
    Snapping green beans with Grandma as she hums “Amazing Grace” and “The Old Rugged Cross”.
    Waving at the rare driver that passes by on the dusty, country lane as it wanders past our house. Wondering where he is going and why.
    Watching the hundreds fireflies dancing, to the songs of the whippoorwills and bob whites, in the gloaming.
    Wiggling my toes, in the grass, and listening to the tinkling of the cow bells in the distance.
    Listening to the lonely whistle of the distant train, waving to the passengers, wondering if they can see me, and feeling left behind as it chugs away to some exotic destination.
    Listening to the woodpecker hammering away at his tree.
    Listening to the frogs croak in the dark.
    Feeling the soft, summer breeze caress my skin and ruffle my hair.
    Listening to the soft snoring of our dog, Shep, as he sleeps next to me.

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