For Mary Lydia: From a Parent Left Behind

Child,

you were not born for sorrow.

I cannot even mourn for you: a few hours

beneath the stars, a name, a covenant,

a safe and shining flight across the sky.

I mourn, instead, for myself,

for my mortal fears, my pain,

for my world-weariness,

for my dark nights. But you, my child,

did not come for such grief.

Someday I shall teach you of this green earth:

of small warm animals,

of cornfields and clay,

of birds that can’t fly,

and of the fear of falling.

And though your new home is

grander, your new life

more splendid, your new world

much lighter, much warmer

than this,

I believe all will be

more beautiful

when I hold you again.