Revisionist Poetry – “Holding This Moment” – Inner Contemplation, v.2

Outside the hush behind my eyes,
I catch her paused, a small held breath—
a bright mote of thought rising, tentative.

Then the child appears: candid, careless,
chin freckled, hands still bearing clay,
a photograph taken in the bright of ordinary.

My chest floods with a love that wants to hold her—
not to bind but to shelter: hands cupped like a hearth.
A private current runs, deeper than the words I know.

In her pupils the day-to-come arrives—half-formed maps, quick sunlight—
and I, lantern at the edge, walk a little behind,
watching the world open as she does.

I keep her close, a slow, grateful breathing,
this small, fierce gift beyond account—
the privilege of seeing her become.