Tiny Doors.

Clutching hands and urgent grasps, for me, for food, for drink.

I will provide, young child, let me see to little necessities for you. I shall take ownership of all that my eye falls upon and see that what needs doing is done right. I waited so long for your arrival. And my patience was rewarded with the divine fit into a bundle no larger than my palm.

The park air and piano hammers hitting piano strings that float out of open windows nearby are made all the more sweet by the electricity of excitement you lend so freely to me each day. I thank you for that, and feel indebted for such a gift.

Let me point the way for you, and walk or crawl or fall however you see fit to open tiny doors with tiny hands. One day humongous gates will open at your slightest touch, yet we will build slowly and I will not open anything but the way for you. You will live the life of a warrior and, like me, will walk through the fire of life and come out crisped. I will not protect you from your burns, but teach you how to heal them and, in this, you will be self-sufficient and unafraid of fire. If I don’t teach you well what will you have to pass on to your own, in time?

Your mother will be loved and well looked after. She will find me unmovable, gentle, hard, and unconditional in both love and my approbation of you both. She married a man.

And so rest now, you both. Amidst the still certainty I bring to you, relax.

I am honoured to take care of you. This is the longest and dearest duty of my life, and when done I will leave you and sleep easily, forever more. I will be missed but not mourned.

Powerful spirits dwell in these bodies I have made.

Warrior spirits.

Ricor Picture-21.jpg
Artwork by Ricor







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