My Mountain, Calling

I guess it's all coming to a point
Peaking an inner mountain
An impassible Cross.

To nurture my small children,
Tiny mystery love-light creatures,
Pour unto them the type of gentle love
Unmovable love, and
Plain full acceptance and thicker than skin love -
Theirs and mine

That shows them and cries out to them -
"You are loved as you are!"
"You are good enough as you are!"
Without trying to make them

Fill my own space.
Resolve my own insecurities.
Strengthen my own convictions.
Conquer my own fears.
Undo my own mistakes.
Absorb my own disappointments.
Satisfy my own needs.

I hear my mountain, calling:
"We are each, immeasurable.
So please, stop measuring."

Oh! How I attempt to change my world, all of them
To be more like the inside me
And to change my world, all of them
To not repeat the inside me.

But, yes, I see -
Less of my own need to change my inner world
Lessens my own need to change theirs.
Giving myself up
Somehow
Gives me more to give away.

Yes, I can. I can
Give without expectation.
Accept without condition.
Love without rules.
Live without control.

At least, I can with sincerity try.
Then ask for forgiveness when I can't.

Because,
I cannot reach into my children's spirit
Theirs or anyone's
Lift them or pull them or mold them
Teach them or unteach them or carry them
Every...single...moment of their
Every...moment...life.

Help is love, not judgment.
We each breathe and cry on our own accord.

Yes. I understand now.
He is, alone, to each one of us
Our own good mountain, calling.