My hands are still too small to even wrap around her thumb. I am here, right on her chest, pressed against that warm drum that beat for me even in the dark before I arrived; and still, whenever I close my eyes, it becomes my lullaby. My breath smells of sleep and her milk. My ear is against her throat, where her words first tickle me like a butterfly, then fly into my head. She speaks of strange things I don’t know the meaning of, yet they taste sweet—like sugar cubes slowly melting on my tongue. She strokes my skin and whispers, “You are the multiplication of love…” I don’t know what “multiplication” is. I think it’s like when we break a piece of bread and it becomes more—that God stretched a sliver of His own light so she and I could look alike. She says that with my coming, God’s love came down from behind the clouds and is now breathing here on earth. Then, her eyes grow wet and bright. She presses her forehead against my face and says, “In you, death has turned pale; there is no more fear of the sunset, you are my unlived tomorrows…” I don’t understand “death”; I just think it must be the name of a cold, dark place—like the dim corners of the room when the light goes out. But when she presses me hard against her soft chest-bone, I understand that as long as her floral dress flutters on my face, no distant place can swallow us. She says the tomorrows her feet no longer have the strength to reach will be watched for her by my eyes. Her lips smell of spring; she gives my cheek a tiny nibble and whispers in my ear, “I have placed the nectar of my life into you as a trust…” I know what she means; she means that white milk that flows from her veins into my mouth when I cry from hunger. It means she is melting away, drop by drop, so my arms and legs can grow longer. Then she speaks of a “trust” and a “duty”; she says I must not break this cup. I imagine my duty is that tomorrow, when I grow tall and she becomes small and tired, I will not let her knees tremble; I will bring her a cup of water, comb her silver hair, and not let any sorrow cloud the corners of her eyes. I am just a child; I don’t know where eternity is, I don’t know the philosophy of this birth; I only know that when I press my mouth to her warm neck, God is sitting right here under her chin, smiling at me. Digital Painting Dimensions: 6299*6299 PX File size: 16 MB Resolution: 400 DPI KHTOON 2026