Year of Writing 48 Hold them.

2/18/12

Inspired by the majestic way a friend and her family have dealt with the death of a young child.

Mothers.  Fathers.
Let not the minutiae of life
distract you from the immensity
of love standing before you
in ripped shorts,
in a ruffled skirt,
in diapers and mud.
Listen to every syllable of every word
they utter; every attempted lie,
every attempted truth.
Love them all for what they are -
declarations of the extant:
"We are here!"  they shout.
Do not ignore this,
it is the most urgent, momentous
revelation you will ever hear.
Lean in close,
drink in their eyes
whisper yourself into an Oak tree
tell them to climb up,
to build a house in your branches.
Now root yourself here in this moment
and the next
until the latticework of your roots
form a net
that can hold anything.