When You Were Born to Us

For Little Boy Hope

ottawablogbaby

When you were born to us…
We had been looking terror in the eyes;
Terror is balls of tin foil, burnt spoons, pills, patches… left carelessly behind.

When you were born to us…
We clung together, but how deeply we were broken;
Does anyone have energy left for another intervention?

When you were born to us…
Deceived hearts forgave, again;
Conversations made friendly, anticipating you.

When you were born to us…
Words of concern swallowed in preservation of family unity;
Conscious that tongue-biting counts as complacency.

When you were born to us…
Prayers of hope whispered into the dark:
Against all odds, protect you from this Russian Roulette.

When you were born to us…
Safety kept us up at night: theirs, ours, yours;
Calls of concern made, fingers pointing back at them.

When you were born to us…
Open-armed, open-hearted, empty-handed;
All gifts are enabling, they teach… just offer love (it has no resale value).

When you were born to us…
Bodies ached to hold you, longed to cherish you, sought to know you;
Minds ached with the worry we might not get to, forever.

When you were born to us…
Stubborn optimism: Could your tiny head smell just sweet enough to tame the beast?
That which claims a son, grandson, brother, father, friend… from all of us.

When you were born to us, Little Boy Hope…
Heavy snow fell, blanketing us with our hope and happiness and love;
And did I say hope? Lots of that.
*

This piece of writing was done in a similar style as On The Night You Were Born, by Nancy Tillman. I’ve been reading a lot of children’s books lately (haha), and it’s just so beautiful.

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