i think i could see myself
holding fragile life
in the palms of my hands,
a reverant look upon my face
as these eyes, harrowed by
sleepless nights and unsightly sights,
gaze down upon a being
wrapped in cotton blankets
that i love more than my own life

and then i could see myself
giving it up
because i do not know how to
stay loving;
i do not know how to be gentle

and i fear turning into my own father
by becoming a father myself