seventeen summers have come
and
they have gone
from when you came into
this world
breathless
no announcement
no birthing cry
as I persisted with all my flesh
you came
with no might in yours
you came
blue, purple blue
still and silent
even today
I still long
for the moment
denied
to have been the first
to hold you
marvel at you

instead
I remember
hushed tones of urgency
as they whisked you away
and looked back at
a childless couple
what else could my soul cry
but
… Dear God . . . Watch my baby
Hold him with the night.

“He is in my arms.”


in your eighteenth summer
that will come
all to soon
I’ll watch you
my child
broad shouldered and brawny
from
the skinny, freckle-face
gapped-tooth boy
walk
with awkward pride
erasing the steps of whimsy
and placing your sole
squarely into
the footprints of men
as you toss a tasseled cap
high above our heads
freedom

you choose
to protect our freedom
and I’ll witness
wrenching with honor
and agony
as once again
you are whisked away
by those who will not
look back at the childless couple
and
what else can my soul cry
but
…. Dear God …Watch my son
Stand by him through the night.

“I am at his side.”


jeanne rené 10/03