Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Watching My Son Sleep

Sleeping safe,
grandmother’s blanket by the foot of the bed,
crocheted squares crashed to the floor long ago,
because just like me,
there is fire in your veins,
tornadoes tattooed inside of your skin,
and you could never stay in one place for too long.
I tuck you back in,
my throat full of all the things I want to say,
but my mind full of guilt at the thought of waking you,
so I do what I always do,
as my mother did before me,
I stare with a smile at the greatest gift I was ever given,
until my eyes are exhausted.
I became pure when you became mine.
I saw myself in a new light,
in your new, needy eyes,
I accepted that I was necessary,
that I was worthy,
because you loved me,
because you depended on me.
You are sleeping safe,
inherited eyes are tightly closed and you are dreaming,
I wonder where you go,
and I wonder if you’ve seen the heights that I’m so sure you’ll reach.
Just let me be a part of the picture your imagination paints.

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