Story, Value, and Becoming More Real
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What She Knew

December 5, 2020



 

His small head on my chest—

heavy, warm

grounds me to earth.

His sweet breath—

soft, light

brings the air of heaven with

each exhale.

It is one thing

to feel delicate twitches

of life, or to glimpse

 

dawn stretched

out through eternity,

in whorls on tiny fingertips.

Another to accept

you will not be there

for all that comes.

I must rest with now.

Touch the cowlicked crown

of tomorrow—

marvel at tiny, parted lips,

 

feel his sea shelled hand

warm against my side—

to remember

to keep me

in the coming days.

I hold my breath

with a catch

knowing I bear

the making of histories

in the bend of my arm.



The featured image is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and used with her permission for Cultivating and The Cultivating Project. 



 

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  1. Julie Jablonski says:

    Gorgeous, Susan! What stirring imagery. This truly touched my heart.

  2. jody collins says:

    Oh my goodness susan, this is remarkable.

  3. Amy says:

    Beautiful. You captured tenderness and transcendence in a way that caused my throat to squeeze. Brava!

  4. Susan says:

    Julie,
    Thank you so much ❣️

  5. Susan says:

    Thank you Jody, you are so kind ❣️

  6. Susan says:

    Thank you Amy❣️

  7. Donna M Byker says:

    I am teary-eyed… knowing how you love those children, and me…what a legacy you can leave with words and actions! Love you, my writer friend!

  8. Susan says:

    Thank you Donna ❤️

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