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 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.