by Kathleen MacGregor
Because his body sat itself down
And I could almost hear…
Because he thought he was alone, unwatched, unknown,
Because I was home and could afford
To spend some time,
I opened my arms and heart to him,
To us.
And because I did,
He spilled his worries and his sorrows-
The purple bags beneath his blue eyes,
His trembling hands,
All the things he doesn’t know
That he needs to learn
To survive in the world,
Trees that get bulldozed,
Whales, dolphins, wolves
And children in wars,
The last flower.
Because space opened up all around us,
Time yawned and stood still
And invited the troubles to linger and be tasted,
And tell us what it’s like,
Because we sat together
In our willingness to feel,
In our desire to connect,
I got to hear him say, through crying eyes,
“When will they know they are killing themselves?”
“When will we know we are killing ourselves?”
Because it seemed much too big for a 9 year old,
I was shaking when I held him,
And together we loved
Not dimmed by grief
But brightened.
Mother, when it was time
for me to speak my 10 year old
Grand Son
about dancing with the devil
We drove to the top of the flat mountain under the stars there
Sacred
as He took solemn a oath and vow to dance no more….
I saw a shooting star that night
and I thought of You