He sat comfortably in the palm of my hand, swinging his legs back and forth in the air like a happy child. He rested his hands beside him on my palm as he looked up at me with a big, trusting smile on his face. His eyes showed utter surrender, unfaltering trust, as though this particular moment was the epitome of his happiness.
He bent his knees and raised his legs into my hand, resting on his elbow and eventually curling up on his side as he succumbed to his instincts of comfort. His ease was so overwhelming that he fell asleep within seconds, right there, in the palm of my hand, oblivious to any danger, free of all burdens, pure like a baby at its mother’s bosom.
I looked down at him in bewilderment, wondering how he could trust me so blindly with his very existence. How could he trust me with his life so comfortably, knowing that I had the physical ability to crush him in a second? If I desired, all I had to do was fold my hand and he would simply cease. His trusting breath would exhale and never exist again, erasing all his hopes in less than a minute.
I marveled at the power he gave me and how trustingly he did it. His life – he – was in my hand and yet he was not afraid. On the contrary, he was content, maybe even happy.
And all that because I simply listened.
All I really did was listen to him, intently and with undivided attention, until his distrust was blinded and his fears were dispersed into nothing.