Poetry: Day 4

Kiernan

Wrinkled newborn hands clutching my hand
blue blanket swaddled and tight
I could stare at your face for hours
listening to the soft sighs you make
as you sleep

Yet I will sleep when you sleep
stumbling in a daze of sleep deprivation and bliss
There is no other time I will get to hold
you this long
and no other time you will look to me
for so much

giver of love and milk
singer, rocker, soother

Now you stand at my shoulder
you dance to a beat of your making
dreaming of ballet solos and designing
robots that will save the world

In this stream of growing up
I am continually letting you go as you take
your first steps-
you make wobbly circles on your bike
and keep moving further into your own

As you permit me
a particularly long hug, a snuggle with a book
and the honor of hearing your deep confidences

I think of this connection of hands across your life,
from the very first grip to when I will see you walk
across that graduation stage and take a diploma in that
same hand

I still check in on you at night
watching the soft rise of your chest
as you dream the dreams of the future
dreams of your own making.