grandson due in november

November (1 of 1)-24
a poem has been emerging over the last few months
as I remember my daughter in her first hours of breathing life
thinking about what it will be like for her to hold her son in his first hours
and how those who once held her and me and those before us,
are strangely present in the near identical blessing we have wished on one another

it wasn’t long ago
barely a breath of time
that I held you
as you breathed
your first five hundred breaths
and I held most of mine

it wasn’t long ago
that Lloyd Campbell Stewart held me
in my first week
smile on his sun-worn face
the only sign to those watching
of blessing whispering and noting
the transition, a future
warm and wriggling in his arms

it won’t be long now
’til I hold your first-born, a son –
and watching his eyes I will see
not only him,
not only my reflection,
not only you on your first day
(with saucer-like unblemished gaze)
but something of all who have gone before us,
and a glimpse of who will follow.

 

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