Mancub

To my dear children (who aren’t mine):

There are those who will tell you that it takes a village to raise a child, but scorn those of us who fled to the trees when we were told by those same villagers that if we didn’t carry another life in our own flesh, we could never carry the same love for them in our souls. The jungle-wild creatures with no children of their own… as though “own” were a term we should apply to anyone we love.

Whether by choice or by chance, our branch of the family tree yields no fruit— but a fruitless branch can still provide cooling shade and sturdy respite, or help you climb to whatever heights you dare, or break your fall when you dare with a greatness your nimble limbs have not yet learned to match.

The jungle is as full of life as a village. I would sing to you about the bare necessities or catch a tiger by its tail to protect you.