Steph Bruzon

When I lived alone, 

I asked for you

over and over

in my child voice. 

/

When you were coming,

I waited and waited,

with my child patience—

impatient.

/

And then,

/

you arrived

like the sun

to my windows

/

and spilled through every white blind,

/

into my heart, into my being.

/

Your tiny fingers wrapped around 

mine, 

we laid in our bed.

/

I counted the stars on the ceiling,

and kissed your baby head. 

/

Now we have separate rooms,

/

and we sleep in the dark, 

/

but you know that my love for you

goes further than these waves,

even further than that arc.

/

It is the axis on which I am turning, 

/

the space that keeps me from 

dissolving.

/

It is the part of me

that never wavers

/

the part of me that keeps evolving.

/

Loving you has been as natural as loving myself,

/

like it’s been asked of me

since the day you arrived.