"Good Night Baby Girl"
I open the window
so that
she can hear the sound of the night,
so that she can smell the fresh scent,
and when the rain starts
she will hear
her mama again
walking quietly
as a breeze of air
to cover her
from the cool of the storm.
Watch her gently as she stirs slightly,
amazed by the face, so small
and innocent,
that reflects the generations
back
through untold time, that moves
toward a future shaped and molded
by who we are, by from where we came,
by the question mark of where we are today.
Notice the little hand
that clutches the blanket,
so perfectly
formed, sculpted by love
and
the grace of God, the hand which
someday
perhaps will cover
with a blanket
her own baby girl
and remember the moments
when she was young and knew
even in her sleep that mama was there.
Reach down and the fingers so tiny,
so fragile yet so strong in their quiet
slumbered love
unconsciously
wrap around mine
and transmit pulse
through my body,
circling, snaking, dancing
through me
with a warmth that runs
from my heart
to my womb, and reminds me
of the bond
that will connect us as long as she lives.
Tip-toe from her room and return to mine,
slip between the blankets lest I rouse him
from his rest, although I wouldn't mind,
for at this moment it would be wonderful
to disappear into a small nested universe
where twined beneath the lullaby of the rain
we would remember the miracle
from which she came.