To Be

When I unconsciously turned

the other cheek for my own

raised hand,

You remarked on the

Sharpness

of my practiced strike

after the split-second memory

rose

upon my flesh.

The ardent surprise in your tone

Made me flinch.

Eyes wide with worry,

I quickly replied, “It didn’t hurt,

I promise,”

And tentatively set my hands down,

So small,

on the floor before me.

Truth be told,

I hadn’t realized that my humbling

fingers had moved even

an inch,

So routine was their touch.

And still your voice

clasped that absent-minded pain

Firmly in the air

Without

a single question.

God,

Please tell me why

it feels so bewildering

To be loved.