a portrait of a child finding her voice

A portrait done in edited strokes
Looping her with shadow
Framing her in glow
Tinting, highlighting, neutralizing

Child, for this moment you are not growing
In image and word you stop
You still yield
Like beeswax warmed in your palm
Still so close to Him
But a growing capsule of His expression
In outbreak
Your words
Crisper than an adults
Your voice arriving, high-pitched
Insistant

If I could wash the light over your eyes, I would
But you will be:
Hurt by this world
Hurt by me
Separated from Him

I will listen to your intone
And hope that you know
that you are also:
Firmly, consistently, eternally loved
And tenderly heard