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?
