Son

Choosing sand over stardust
Stomping along the weedy shore
Instead of swimming across
Enchanted waters
My hands steady and strong
Even as my spirit shudders
Waivers and quakes
There is no perfection
His liquid stare puzzles
No one is perfect
Momma
But you are not no one
I choose to be stay solid
When my soul begs to be free
To float on the wind
Finding magic at every turn
Not for him
But because of him
Baby turned boy turning
All too quickly
To Man
The muse to my instincts
A child too much like
His mother
With the logic, playfulness
And serene smile
Of his father
He won’t be perfect
Either
But he’ll be
Strong
And Steady
Beautiful in his complexity
Because of us
And this
Our imperfect
World

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lost mother

you won’t
know the cold
until it grips you
from the inside
the freeze dried
madness of loss
here we all are
children of the
forgotten
and
remembered
but always blindsided
by mortality
if God is with us
where is his comfort?
how does his plan
for tiny babies
without mommies
make any rational
sense?
why does faith leave
in these moments
when we need it
most?
I pray, just the same
give my tears to
the wind
and beg for them to
bless the wings
of a new angel
but my heart breaks
and bleeds
for the lives she’s left
behind

can she protect them
from her new home
in God’s kingdom?