Unfinished letter to Aidan Elise and Cole Steven

Look at you my beautiful children and feel want, need, love. Eaten up with hurt when I think about the way I want your life to be. Wish for you enough pleasure and pain to learn but not enough to kill as can happen with those I love the most and with best intention. The wound of religion pulls, tears. Raw. No salt. As I try to do right for you, by you. For us. Heads of hypocrisy and disease. Not given you. By me. And silence, as yet, there is none. I can't promise. Only try to love. Invisible body yawning into existence. The only promise I can make.