what will he remember
of me when memories
are fires turned embers
will he compare every She
he meets
to the feeling of soft
long hair enveloping
his vision
and the tender warmth of hands
folding him against skin so warm
playful and smiling
an outlined breast
his most direct
reference for sustenance
emotional and otherwise
imprinted anima
when he calls her beloved, mi vida
wanting all of her attention
just like he wants mine
he has my dark eyes
that peer curious and cautious
not yet asking how much he can trust
but questioning it all
with a serious
love basking
in the way
his toothless grin
just spreads

I wonder if it will be hard to witness
the innocence I cradled
from my womb to my bosom
change and transform
into a man who can break
a woman’s heart with his hands
and even more tear her apart
with his self-centered
or will he love so much
that he weeps for the world
instead of warring against it
will he laugh with what hurts
instead of turning it out
on others
his name is a warrior’s
the man
who delivers himself
into salvation
through a path
fighting by knowing
how to meet the tests
of those who failed before him

the way his father destroyed
everything he touched
did his mother’s heart crush
when his rough calloused
words hurled themselves
at her, did she die
just a little bit
every time he was the victim
of his life
or did she teach him
how to never be at fault
was she the one
who taught him to hate

his eyes look up to me unaware
yet completely here
trusting openly
without a doubt there
is nothing more than what he knows
in my arms
protected no matter
if he cries laughs or just stares
hopeful or afraid he is just present