Birth Day

I remember the day well.

I remember the night too, of walking

to ease the relentless pain in my back.

I was seventeen; how was I to know that this,

this dull, repetitive ache

was the beginning of the labor for your birth?

It was five weeks before you were due to leave my womb

and so I walked, and watched the morning sun

rise golden through green April trees.

Hours later, as the sun began its descent I beheld you,

held you only briefly but in your eyes I saw

myself, yourself, and the years

the stretched before us,

a winding, unmarked path.


Forty-six years later

we have traveled over half, I suppose

of the journey laid before us on that April day.

Others on our journey have fallen from the trail

while new ones have taken their place.

It has not always been a easy path;

darkness overtook us a time or two

and we struggled through some rough uphill terrain.

Ahead the way narrows and somewhere,

probably when we least expect it,

there will come an end to my path

and dark will descend again.

I will leave you to journey on your own.

Fear not; I will be watching over you and yours

as you move ahead into the light.

About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
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