For an hour I held
the new child in my arms,
watched her eyes flutter
open and closed and open
and closed again, held
her through the jolt
of her startle reflex,
held her as she resettled
into quiet contentment
in the unfamiliar body.
The hands know what
the mind cannot fathom.
Just two days ago, I sat
beside an old man
with bright eyes and
a thick German accent.
He told me, Most people
don’t know how wonderful
they are. My whole body
startled at his words,
aware of all the insecurity
and worry I carry, then
softened, softened, as if I, too,
were newly born, learning
for the first time
what it means to be
wonderful.