for Shawnee
This time the goodbye is in the kitchen,
me running off to the next thing,
you at the counter with morning tea
before you drive away.
I give you a hug from behind
and a kiss on your cheek and thank you
for coming to visit.
I want to tell you I love you,
but the words have never
tumbled out easily, not because
they aren’t true, but because
I don’t want to frighten you.
Strange to feel I must hold you at a distance
in order to keep you close,
like a mother bird
who monitors her nestling
from a neighboring tree.
I never was one of the mothers
who worry about fatal things:
car crashes, avalanche, infectious disease.
I worry more about the most
terrible thing that could happen,
that you could be alive and not know how
much I love you, fiercely, unfoldingly,
worry my longing
to keep you at ease could
make you feel pushed away.
Driving from the house,
it is not the sun in my eyes
that makes them leak,
it’s this knowing that I
have made for you a nest
in my heart where I hold you,
but perhaps what you needed all these years
was for me to hold your real hand,
to wrap my real arms around
where your wings would be.
¡Ay caramba! Such depths of feelings, turmoil, indecisiveness, and uncertainty. Regret, too, perhaps. As is your wont, you’ve gone deeply under the surface, here. So very close to the source.
None of these words are beyond an elementary schooler; but, behold the sorcery of the right words in the right order.
I have no kids, step or otherwise, yet still, you’ve pierced my heart.
ah, sweet friend, yes, i suppose that is alllll in there, the turmoil, the regret, the deep love. Hugs to you …