She is the maternity to my paternity.
We, once two, became one, and are now somehow three.
Our third carried by her.
I observe
As she becomes what neither of us have
A mother.
With nerve she pulls up strength from somewhere.
Each gritty step into the day demanding a femininity fanfare.
Marching through it all with a holy maternal luster.
I gaze enamored,
Proud of my fellow life traveler who is growing another piece of shalom.
With no one else would I want to create a home.
