I look down, my attention hypnotized by the aimless
activity of your precious plump hands,
Our communication is mere sensory perception; but oh,
sweet child, what we are able to say to one another.
I long for the moment when words channel those senses
into syllables.
Until then, I shall meet each whimper with a mother's
knowing interpretation of every change in tone.
You cry: I am instant in nearness...
You need me
I stare into your young questioning eyes.
Trust stares back through ceaseless tears—the result of
your first introduction to pain through the loss of
something you love.
The goldfish is so tiny: his value to you incalculable.
His cost matches only his size.
How can I tell you what age has taught me so well—that
time will heal the hurt. It will even be the bridge to
prepare you for crossings of greater loss to come.
But then, I am your assurance ... God's provisional sponge
to absorb the hurts of childhood.
We talk of death—I hold you...
You need me
I glance through your half-closed door that is far too
often off limits to me.
It's crying time again.
Pain has crossed your hardly-a-child-barely-adult path.
You are struggling on your own for you question my
ability to help.
How can I convince you that I understand, having stood
at the same bend in the road in my life.
The outward trappings were different; the feelings
exactly the same.
As in the young months of infancy, words are no longer a
viable means of communication.
You don't think you need me.
I enter your room, the primeval sensory system grabbing
both our hearts.
I hold you close, you cry...
You need me
I watch the look in his eyes as they lovingly take
possession of yours.
The ceremony is all too short that will start a
relationship that will permanently separate you from my
protective nest.
You will begin your own home.
The visits will somehow be different now.
I cry: you pass by me handing me a rose that speaks
loudly of a most intense love.
Such a fragile symbol.
My heart bare, I discover something...
I need you
You call in the middle of the night.
It is time ... I rush panting for breath to your side.
A new set of plump hands grab at you.
You stare into my eyes; another circle of life is
completed.
And once more, there is no need for words...
We need each other!

Copyright © by Sharon L. Patterson
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