Already I see the both of you
trying to leave me
leaping upward with the flight of
all living things. You
are always growing away from me.
Some days I cannot wait
cannot bear the counting of the countless breaths
that stand between my worn out bones today and
the free ringing bell promised when you are gone.
You are my children
first unleashed with a thick cord heavily
woven in my long hair and stout
mother muscles. Though you are only
eight and four
already the cord is wide-brimmed silk strands
against which you dance and pull.
I know you are growing away from me.
I prepare at nights
when you sleep
soaking in your closed eyelids the
lashes spread like soft fern against the forest floor
your cheeks full and smooth with
youth, I imprint your tiny faces inside me--
inside me a swell of something
sweet and large
watching you grow older
second by second the sadness
so impossibly intertwined with this thing
that loves you and knows
I will clap the loud clap of our
Creator when He created
the heavens and the earth and said
This is good.