Should Be

Yesterday, I greeted an old friend,  
“Oh you don’t even look like
you just had a baby!”
But it was only afterward
that I sensed the backdraft,
the cold force of my words,
with power to both ignite and destroy. 

I quickly looked around for signs
Of my daughter’s upturned face.
Had she heard?
Did the light in her eyes momentarily flicker
as this seed of lies about what her body
should be
dropped deeply into her soft earth,
the beginnings of a tree with bare branches
that would spread across her life
like stretch marks over the belly?

 What if instead I had smiled and said,
“Oh you look like
you just had a baby!”
Marveling at the golden light of new love in her eyes,
her softness an invitation,
 a homecoming.
What if my daughter had heard?
What if she believed?