Roger Humes and I won the Harvest International award for Best Poem with “Good Night, Baby Girl”.
I open the window so that she can hear the sound of the night, so that she can smell the fresh scent, and when the rain starts she will hear her mama again walking quietly as a breeze of air to cover her from the cool of the storm.
Watch her gently as she stirs slightly, amazed by the face, so small and innocent, that reflects the generations back through untold time, that moves toward a future shaped and molded by who we are, by from where we came, by the question mark of where we are today.
Notice the little hand that clutches the blanket, so perfectly formed, sculpted by love and the grace of God, the hand which someday perhaps will cover with a blanket her own baby girl and remember the moments when she was young and knew even in her sleep that mama was there.
Reach down and the fingers so tiny, so fragile yet so strong in their quiet slumbered love, unconsciously wrap around mine and transmit pulse through my body, circling, snaking, dancing through me with a warmth that runs from my heart to my womb, and reminds me of the bond that will connect us for as long as she lives.
Tip-toe from her room and return to mine, slip between the blankets lest I rouse him from his rest, although I wouldn’t mind, for at this moment it would be wonderful to disappear into a small nested universe where twined beneath the lullaby of the rain we would remember the miracle from which she came.