love’s pupil

Fingers wrapped in fingers, twisting tightly, wringing gently;

Blue eyes jumping, shifting, slowly looking up, imploring mine;

Fear and shame rushing in her gaze, like wild ocean waves.

“I’m uncertain about my sexuality,”

She speaks bravely, quietly, questioningly.

With tender honesty, fearfully asking me to still love her;

Daughter whose very essence is my beating heart;

Who taught her this gritty courage?

How long has she carried this heart-quickening suspicion?

Alone and unassisted, wrestling within;

This tender, gentle soul; mature even at her birth –

Her chubby, toddler hands often patted my shaking shoulders;

Child consoling mother in a strange reversal.

Now she trembles, waiting for assurance;

Not for thesis, stance, or theological explanation;

But for love, acceptance, welcome.

How my soul longs to don chainmail and, lifting spear,

Slay the foul dragon of intolerance.