13.5.11

On wisdom


There's so much I don't know
about the big stuff: life, death,
what it all means, or doesn't.


But what I know sustains me:
she will play legos for hours,
even fireflies make him nervous,
no poop talk ever gets old,
the weight of their sleeping bodies,
their ready smiles when morning calls.


Their songs and fights, bittersweet music
that's mine for only a fraction
of their wild and raucous lives.
Their hands quietly reaching for mine,
their dark eyes looking to mine
for guidance, acceptance, pride, and love.

 

There's not much wisdom in it,
but these details fill me up
and tell me exactly, without doubt
that without them, I'd know nothing.


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