You Are a Child to Be Held

The morning light hits the room and the rehearsing begins. You run every sentence through your mind a dozen times before you speak, terrified that a stumble will reveal the fraud you feel like inside.

You think you must be flawless to be loved. But the light does not require a perfect performance.

It saw the woman who wet his feet with her tears and said her many sins were forgiven because she loved much. You are not a mask to be maintained.

You are a child to be held. The one who knows everything about you does not turn away when you stutter.

He calls you by name and asks if you love him. Not if you are perfect.

Just if you love. The panic says you must hide the cracks.

The truth says the cracks are where the light gets out.