when you sleep
when you sleep
you are still able
to fit into the crook of my arms
and I have never yelled at you once.
you are in your mother’s belly floating
fully in the safety of a shared
a feather on the heron’s head
stealth and still on the water’s edge of your pre(me)memory
where I am not your mother-
and you could be anyone’s
son. I am the roof keeping you dry
and the unrecognizable shred of a blanket between your fingers
I am not the ship sailing with you shackled in my berth
or your mother who grieved your mother’s loss at your brother’s birth
when you sleep you are not a transracial anything
or a deep brown everything
but a galactic breath deep and deepening
landing on the pillow next to your
little brother’s breath
who already knows you better than I do
only imagining that I am your mother awake
Thanks Anne. The need to complete came after being in the workshop room. Felt that desperate need to get some of the in–into the OUT. SO thank you for that!
Oh my heart! Gorgeous, simply gorgeous. I love you all!
thank you Mama.
That’s so full of love and tenderness I can touch it overseas !
Merci Cousine. Ca me fait grand joie de lire ce matin. J’espere que tout va bien avec toi. On a passer un grand visit avec Clau, et on a regarder des belles photos de ta mere. Bisous.
Beautiful! Brought tears to my eyes… and made me realize I have to take a break from this busy crazy schedule to write… thank you.
Thank you Rachel. YES TO WRITING! Yes indeed. So good to see you hear!
Sorry I am late on this. This was a gorgeous, touching poem.