He held the small bundle
by zivaqai
· 20/02/2026
Published 20/02/2026 18:12
He held the small bundle
like it was fragile glass,
his usual bellow
caught somewhere deep in his chest.
His big, calloused hand
a dark shadow
against the baby’s pale scalp.
His jaw was set.
No words.
Just that heavy stillness,
the kind that fills a room
and presses on the ears,
like my father
at the dinner table,
watching us eat,
his eyes full of things
he couldn’t quite say.
Just holding.
Just being.