I can finally understand why young guys sometimes leave their families.
The beauty of a woman, as stirring as that may be, is one that keeps you staring, makes you desire to ‘have’.
But the beauty of your own newborn child is different.
The longing you feel is too great.
Looking into his eyes you see your whole past, and your whole future all at once, yet pure and unadulterated, like looking straight into the face of God; too glorious.
Those who say it’s the fear of responsibility or that men don’t want the commitment are sorely mistaken.
Watching those small black pupils dilate while your face slowly comes into focus compels you to be more committed to them than you are to the idea of breathing.
It’s more the deepest desire to do right by someone that makes your skin feel like it’s going to melt and your eyes burn right from their sockets.
Yet like Jonah, running will only make it worse for the face of God hunts you down and brings old men to their knees, frail and unfit to face what they are now forced to face, though they thought they had evaded it in the days of their youth.
Fools run in terror.
For it is truly terrifying.
But those who stay must be willing to die.
Die to oneself, and now live wholly for another.
Life has been a bit crazy, and I’ve realized that the older you get, sometimes the less ‘with it’ you can become about the latest fashion or trends. I just found out that it’s poetry month. I don’t really write poetry, but on occasion I pen something down that others tell me sounds quite poetic. This is something I was compelled to write last year around this time, after my first son was born. It was quite an overwhelming experience. As the birth of my second child is days, if not hours away, it seems appropriate to share it now. I think what’s written above sums it up.