When my proud moment isn’t on Facebook
I will hold that moment in my own two hands
touched by grace
wet with tears
giving thanks
I will feel the smooth cold glass of it
See the flash of sun sparking
new worlds in it
I will hear the harmony, and dissonance
that made it
I will smell strawberries and spring
in her hair
I will know the days and moons and moments
tears, and heart-stopping fears
of love, of trust, the holiness of her small soft hand
in mine
I will hold this moment close
longing to whoop from the treetops
wishing the world to know, this
is my proud moment—
whispering its truth
to the wind instead