Children are the endless renewal of hope.

Once Upon A Time

You were so small as to be completely helpless.
You were small enough to fit snugly in the arms of
your Mother and Father. They held you and were in awe
of your complete lack of ability. You were practically strangers
but they loved you more deeply than anyone else in their lives.

Once upon a time

You were so small that you could not yet speak, but that did not
stop your parents and family from deciphering each cry, gurgle,
and coo. You began to learn this tongue through the kindness of touch
and bodily warmth. You knew what love was before you knew the word.

Once upon a time

You were so small that you led a carefree and blameless life where
every need was anticipated and provided for. Your cries were a source
of concern before you had anything to be concerned about.

Once upon a time

You were so small as to be able to swim in your Mother's belly and
hear her heart beat while her blood pulsed through you.

Once upon a time

You were so small your hand could only wrap around one adult finger.

Once upon a time

You were so small that you could not walk, you couldn't even sit.
You were so small that accomplishing each was momentous.

Once upon a time

You were so small, words could not take flight from your tongue,
they merely sat on the runway while mind, throat, and tongue
learned to coordinate their efforts for a mutual good.

Once upon a time

You were so small that you did not know of oceans, sky, wind,
but when you grew to know them you grew to love the vastness
of the world as you stood on the beach while the wind shaped clouds
into abstract paintings hued in the pastels of a fading sun.

Once upon a time

You were so small that your body began to grow and find it's place
among people. You grew taller and wider, more confident
and amazed. You grew so much that you met another person
and together made someone new. When they were born
you remembered how small you had once been.

Dirty Children of the Sun.

She Is Not Your Wife

Faded pictures were scattered across the coffee table,

years and places reordered according to no chronology.

The half-empty glass was mostly filled with melting ice

that had diluted the brown liquor, the ashtray next to it

had not been emptied in days. He finished using the rest

room, flushed. He threw the old girlie magazine onto 

the couch, a few pictures blew off the table and landed

soundlessly onto the carpet, he didn't bother to pick them 

up. His back ached as he reached for the glass, his left 

hand shook a little. It used to worry him when it first

happened, now, he tried not to think about it. He poured

liquor to the brim of the tumbler before setting the bottle 

on the counter by the refrigerator. The couch was soft 

and yielding as he sat down, for a moment, it seemed 

to sigh. He dumped a shoebox full of pictures last night

after coming home from the tavern, he had been there

since he had left work. In the light he could see years 

spread across like confetti spilled out of a broken pinata

at a child's birthday party. There was a kind face that 

looked out from many of the pictures, an earnest smile,

eyes that spoke with precise clarity of heart. Children

were beginning to walk home from school, he could 

hear them outside. He locked eyes with a picture of her

at the beach, he could no longer hear the children.

     

Somewhere

Doe-eyed beauty

how young you are.

Your son delights

in the world with

you. Where is the

X to this Y axis?

Somewhere.

Somewhere.

At the end of the day.

The sound of two boys running

echoed loudly through the room

of adults standing in line.

One woman worked the counter.

A mutual impatience filled our lungs.

The boys father told them

to sit down, be quiet.

They did no such thing.

His uniform was as exhausted

as his face. Only empty threats

remained as the children's voices

echoed farther and farther

into the minds of those listening.