I don’t think we ever stop wanting to be loved by the ones who created us. There had to be a little love there in the beginning–for most of us anyway. Maybe we were made from a bit of lust and momentary madness as well. Or maybe we just fell from the stars and the dust got in their eyes…made them blind to the light they’d been carrying inside them. Maybe we were much too bright for sore eyes. Much too wild for feet that have been standing in one place so long that they bleed because they are so heavy. Sinking because they’re not moving. And I don’t think we ever stop wanting to be loved by the ones who created us. But I won’t let the fear of losing you keep me here.
from my third poetry book, Made of Earth.
