concerning this

There is no denying
Her life will be hard.
She will grow up
Without money.
She will never know
Who her daddy is and
You will never
Tell her.
There will be times
When the pain will spit
So frankly, point-blank
In your face
That you will barely
Be able to justify
Her existence,
There will be times when you will
Curse the act you thought
Was love, curse the bed
You blessed.
But say, one day, she
Bustles up to you,
Muddy and breathless,
Summer's scent sealing
Her like anointing oil,
Curls spilling sunlight on her
Rivulet bones.
She holds a tulip
She picked from the neighbor's
Patch, offers it to you
Sacredly,
Tells you
She loves you.
Would you not gather her
In your arms,
Gently sweep her hair
Behind her ear
And whisper your reply,
And kiss her there
On her bubblegum cheek
And know,
As sure as death,
That there was a time
You carried the world
In your womb?