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”
Sunrise and Sunset – the Wheel of Life. The 9th Lineage Poem. So we near the end of this cycle of Lineage Poems. We began with the roots of ancestors gone long before I was born, but embedded in my every cell; visited and said goodbye to both my father and my mother; welcomed the addition of a new line through marriage; and celebrated the advent of a new generation in the birth of my beloved granddaughter. Now, we turn to the inherent cyclical nature embedded in the fabric of the generations.
Last year I buried my only brother Joseph, and shortly thereafter learned that our son and daughter in law are expecting a second child any day now, a boy this time.
A death and a birth, a brother and a grandson
brother Joe with my father, circa 1942
chance
I haven’t met him yet
just been told he’s in transit
waiting, biding his time
in the warm, purple
amniotic dark. our oldest son
told us that his son is expected
in the spring. I clearly remember
the morning my wife’s water broke
rushing to the hospital, becoming
a father for the first time
I called my older brother
eager to share the news
but he was unimpressed
just last month I spoke
at his funeral, his ashes in a box
at the front of the room
and there it is, one leaving
just as another is beginning
and in between, such drama
and beauty, love and pain
and none of it endures - none of us
endures
I wonder if I’ll still be here
when the son of my son
snaps open his eyes
and screams
at the shock of squeezing
into this hard cold world
I hope so, though I know
in truth there’s no way
to protect him
nonetheless
I’d dearly love the chance
to die trying
