An Intention For My Children (after having been complimented for being a “survivor”).
April 17, 2010
You each were handed first
To your mother, placed upon her breast.
She held you firmly in your place,
Bundled soft and warm -
Touched you with her lips.
You were each born into this world
With a freely-open heart;
Fresh and tender,
Having hadn’t a taste
Of anything but love.
Your hearts are a gift: my joy.
Lent to me by grace to guard,
Nurture and protect…
That I should, first, be kind to you,
To see you to your freedom
That you may stand
In a fullness of your own choosing
Elsewhere in the world.
It is my hope I should to give you
Those things that call to me:
The willingness to forgive;
A subtle disregard for authority;
The spontaneity of song;
A fierce love of independence.
This is not to say that the world
Will not come calling,
Knocking at your door; for it will.
But that you would answer boldly,
From your heart, open and strong,
To greet the world sure-footed;
Taking it up in your hand,
To be wrapped soundly in your fingers,
Brought to your mouth,
And enjoyed as though it were a peach;
You chewing and sucking
Into its fragrant flesh,
Sweet juices dripping from your chin
Beneath your smile.
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From "I'd Rather Be A Beekeeper Than A Blacksmith".
Hear the Poem read by the author.
- Christopher M. Gibbons
