If I could bless you, yet to come,
If words could bear their power down
Through fretful days and fearful years,
Through all your mother's silent tears
Spent sparingly while dreaming you,
If I could press lips to your crown
And whisper wisdom, scraps held dear,
Preserved as desperation grew -
The memories, the failures, too -
I'd give them freely, every one.
I'd rob you of your first frontiers,
I'd slay your pains, as parents do...
Or as they wish, but that's no life.
I wish you joy, not absent strife.
I can't be kinder than the world,
Not if I have to leave you here.
It breaks my heart to be unkind,
To do you wrong, to harm you so...
But I will see you rise and shine,
And I will see you stand and grow,
I'll see you fight and try yourself,
I'll see your agonies and smile,
I'll try, I swear I'll try. I will.
But if I bless you, little one,
So far from here, still yet to come,
I can't give what I haven't found.
I can't wish what I haven't known.
Maybe it's the biological clock. Maybe all my excitement and hope that I'll be the parent my children deserve is a hopeful light in my life. Maybe that candle of hope can stand the midnight certainty that, when it matters, I won't have done enough. Maybe it's too quiet here and the cubicle doesn't do much to hide me.
