The world has been turning since I met your father,
Since we knelt and prayed before the wooden altar.
We had long days together, learning the other—
Then came daughter after daughter after daughter.
Now: brush through the hair, pack the cleats, load the dishes!
We handle the fury, the flurry, the kisses.
Try to gather the girls like a good mother hen,
But my voice was too harsh—I’ll say sorry again.
A brief moment of stillness! But what is it for?
My curving thoughts do not aim for that better shore.
Where’s a room of my own? And how much I’ve decayed!
My pen, seldom used, crawls a child’s halting pace.
Is my body a ruin? Is this really love?
Hot distorted resentments inside of me shove.
Alone, I’d set off for Merry England or France,
I’d long gaze at icons in a pure saintly trance.
Before the north rose window of great Notre Dame,
Taking from its blue radiance a much-needed calm,
With Mary and Child at the center of things,
The glass stories in a perfect geometry,
I’d declare my devotion, whatever was asked!
But not this Little Way of reality’s tasks.
Make me worthy of something truly dramatic,
For I need to let loose my inner fanatic—
“Mommy!”
You climb on my lap, our littlest girl.
“Play dolls with me! Read to me? Please, give me a twirl!”
The laundry is beeping, but I collect myself,
And select an old storybook off of the shelf.
You finish the rhymes, slowly sound out a new word.
Your finger traces the looping flight of a bird.
Whenever did you learn that? And haven’t you grown!
What a marvel: seeds sprouting that I have not sown.
And did I forget, my love, how hard-won you were?
How hard to conceive, and even harder to birth?
Your faint heartbeat was lost, but you held on so well,
Plied and freed by our doctor, who harrowed my hell.
My body lay open; a piercing sound—your cry!
In that sterile room there was not a dry eye.
My whole axis shifted: life is a holy gift.
I understand my place (Lord, help me not to drift).
You are my rose window, with your beautiful face,
My dear life-giving sign of His breathtaking grace.
