The moment of feeling before absence becomes color.
the top of my fingernail against your skin
(barely, the very brink of the back of your arm).
I don’t let myself believe it yet.
Turn toward your taking in and giving out.
I still haven’t opened my eyes.
–We’ll find mornings together.

We’ll wrap them ‘round our fingers, and listen carefully.
these little rings turn to soft-point needles;
knitting us together with seed-stitched,
stockinnette, and garter knots.
They’ll teach us how it feels to stretch and give.
–We’ll find love together.

We’ll watch that love create
a whisper of us in our children’s faces.
We’ll breathe hope & sacrifice,
and pray it passes through their lungs.
While our bodies exhale, their love will rise.
–We’ll find always together.