Part 3: Childhood
Mother I see you
wanting desperately to trust the world
let her walk to school
like you did in the olden days...
but is there enough to trust
in this time upside down
on the edge of colossal bust?
I see you in your gaping silence
after morning chaos -
standing still on the beam
between their raging river
and your slowly returning stream...
trying to reclaim your headwaters
long too dry it seems.
I see your thoughtful wall charts
and tenacious tries to keep
meaningful ties to human reciprocity,
and in-person empathy
as phones and drones and screens and things
creep their way into time and home…
How did this happen? you say…
with honest woe,
and then, yes, check your own phone...
human too -
fed by the witnesses there
who express some care
even if through a click or two.
And then there’s the days
deep breath into dirt.
Creek dam construction
fairy house detection
and mud milk concoction.
Your family is sweetly scooped up
by earth arms
and taken into the great gift…
the nature of nature is to give.
It is complete.
Permission to live,
guided only by flow and their own feet.
“This” you whisper and melt into the sun.