a simple prayer
his feet cracked, red
and worn
from the long and lonely walk
into this life
his mother’s hand
a sister’s touch
may he be warm
may he be safe
may he be held
Fisher Chambers Fink, born March 20, 2022; 9lbs 5 oz.
Welcome grandson…
And on a similar note, from Czeslaw Milosz, Forget:
” a grandson and a great grandson are born…you stand at the threshold mute”
A Joyous Day – Gift of a New Life (8th Lineage Poem) Nearly three years ago, this lineage began a new phase with the birth of our granddaughter Sawyer. Honestly, I never expected to care much about grandchildren.
I was wrong!
Born on the cusp of covid, she’s always had a bit of “stranger danger” and, of course, this extended to me – kind of still does. Yet we have our own profoundly goofy relationship founded on funny faces, silly noises and mutual surveillance.
She is brilliant, exceptionally verbal and, of course, beautiful. Her blue eyes are stunning, and her crooked grin is simply beguiling.
(I feel very strongly that it’s not my job to post pictures of her on the internet, but below are two that I feel do preserve her privacy.)
I’ve born witness now to the birth and growth of two sons and a granddaughter, and I still have no idea where these exceptional creatures come from, how their intelligence takes root and blooms.
This is the great mystery and the gift of lineage.
I am forever in love
Sawyer in Sara’s hand, a few hours old
mumuration
her small voice rising
in the dark above the crib
a morning murmuration beginning
spinning, rising, a flock
of freshly hatched words
translucent and damp
where did she come from?
this spontaneous consciousness
this ascending double helix
of intelligence - pulsing, spiraling
wave upon brilliant wave
of innate wisdom, elaborating
her sweet song, a spark
radiating across the endless space
of possibility, coming now
to crack open the darkness like a star
like the first soft light
of this brand new day
Equally astounding is how quickly a child engages, learns to stand, to walk and to step into a tomorrow of her own.
Sawyer and mom Taylor above Ouray Colorado
hers
after a lifetime
of insisting on my own importance
here I stand, in the shadows
watching her
watching her
the clouds roll in
and evening pools in the valley
she takes one step forward
and then another, venturing
to the very edge of the world
this world that is now hers
and hers alone
