Being a parent again
is a poem
I have to write for you
later tonight.
It is a complete challenge
a delight
a fright
and quite amazing
a wonderful ride
in spite of the nights
of sleepless hours
the towering job
in front of me
but the purity
in my arms
the bottles
the baby
the spit
the poop
the tears
and the crying
all together - don't even
add up to the joy
the absolute thrill
of my lady
who's wide eyes
and laughter are
more than anything -
a splendid reminder
an in the moment
reward -
for being a parent again.
I must write a poem
but later
as our daughter is awake
eyes wide
tiny hands reaching out
grabbing everything
smiling
dark obsidian eyes
saying yes
and I understand
why I took
that extraordinary leap of love
again.
As I look down
at her tiny dark face
it is perfect
in every way
an angel face - glowing
quiet and at ease
all concentration
eyes closed – then reopening,
eating ferociously
while the field of her curly black hair
stands on her head
at attention
in a kind of Mohawk center
yet soft – childlike and
covered with coconut oil
she sits perfectly still,
groomed with her Mother’s
devoted care.
Occasionally
she glances up
the whites of her eyes
reveal a question,
“Is he still there?”
and I am – observing,
listening, working to take
a long deep breath
and not let the fear of falling
off this dangerously steep cliff
take me completely away
from this important moment.
Yet, even falling
I would likely sprout wings
and fly
as even in this fitful state
of grace
I am in
I can see a faint light shinning
in the dark night
it is a light of love
as dawn arrives on soft tip toes
bringing all mystery
into clarity with the new day.
Doug Claybourne - Copyright © Doug Claybourne 2012 All Rights Reserved.
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