text: "missing child # 3"
i used to delight in observing him think..........................
still too young to form and articulate his own sentences,
he would stand and clasp his hands together
as he formulated his new found phrases and ideas…
too often we fancy what we are, and what we are not............
i never considered my appreciation not strong or deep enough….........
too late, i considered it was so strong as to cause the third to overreact…
how do i come to be here ?…....................
i know what love means, at least that much….................................
a theist would ascribe it to “an act of “god”…
i have no such luxury;
i answer to my conscience only,
and vouch no “god” could exist that could hurt me more…
is penance overvalued ? …
the heart alone cannot minister without something ulterior;
so i remember his voice…