Beloved Baptism

I know it doesn’t work,
but I want to hug the sad out of you.
I want to kiss away your shame.

I want to trace your skin with my fingers,
outlining all that is wondrous about you —
crushing any disappointment you have within yourself.

I want to caress
the back of your neck with
the slow repetition of my breath —
murmuring things like,

“You are loved by many, and I am one of them,”

or

“You are brilliant, beautiful, and priceless,”

until you stop worrying
and
let yourself rest.

I want to
hold your hand,
until you find a reason to
believe in yourself —
trust me, there are plenty.

And if you can’t think of
any,
I’ll take your fingers and place them
against your neck,
because the only reason you need
to believe in yourself
is that your are alive.