Fill

Somehow it surprises me what saps and drains

Conversely it’s surprising what fills

These precious children’s voices seek me out

Little bodies press close, hungry:

“Read to me feed me listen to me see me fill me”

Their little persons cry

– sometimes audibly, sometimes not, needy regardless of the decibel by which the need’s uttered –

And my shallow-selfishness-of-my-own-strength reserves would claim dry and spent.

Weak, sometimes my self’ll whisper that were they silenced and I was left alone

I’d be satisfied.

Filled, as it were, by a void of contact.

– I know there’s a case to be made for solitude –

– That quiet’s virtue can’t be discounted –

But fullness of sound is what dresses the silence resplendent, rich

The fullness of contact what begs meaning, shape, definition

The fullness of my surrender frees me from remaining one-dimensional (and maybe helps another too?)

The fullness of getting-to-meet-others’-needs what shapes and draws into what was before unknown, lifeless, formless

That is, a fullness of life is what makes a fullness of life.

So may I pour out, satisfy, and meet all these.

May I live fully content and with joy for these in my care.

May I accept and and then return the torrent

And fill, and be filled… to overflow

What else on earth could I possibly do that could fill more than this?

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