Thursday, May 26, 2011

It Is Time To Exhale

Child of Mine 
by Paige Jansen Tighe

Child of mine,
Daughter, son,
I still feel your tiny newborn heart
Beating against my chest
As I press you into me,
Tiny legs drawn up and mouth a rosy bow.
I have one hand on your bottom,
The other protects your wobbly grapefruit
     head.
Eyes closed, I nuzzle your neck
And drink in that scent which is
Distinctly and divinely and gloriously
You.
Dizzying,
Intoxicating,
You are my heart.
I often thought, back then, if I inhaled
     deeply enough
I would suck you right into my soul.
Is anything more precious?

Ah, but you are big now
And cannot be sucked so easily into someone else’s soul.
Your scent is still
Distinctly and divinely and gloriously
You,
But now it mingles with
Glue smell and baby chick,
Sweat, lunch box, fresh air and sunshine.
Hairspray, cologne.
It has come time for me to exhale,
To allow your legs to lengthen,
Your mind to explore,
And yes, I must even allow
Your tender heart to break,
So that you may
Listen in the quiet,
Smell a coming storm,
Gaze long into every day,
Tread softly upon the earth.

Taste, my precious one,
See that the Lord is good,
And may laughter be your lot.

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