To the Little Boy with the Cystic Hygroma

This is your heart beat.

A slow steady rhythm marked by flickering white light.

This is the pulse of life.

An erratic fast then slow but pushing on relentlessly.

In the rush of everything, everyone, and everywhere I need to be,

I listen for the thumping in your chest

That sets my steps

And Moves me on despite the setbacks and lacking self-confidence.

I listen for the next beat with bated breath.

Keep beating though the journey is long.

Keep beating though the slog is hard.

Keep beating to guide me where I can hold you in my arms

and become the one who leads you beyond.

The Measure of My Worth

I have reached inside my soul
and found that I am lined in gold.
It fills the cracks and fissures,
the erosion of my tears through troubled years.
It formed in veins, snaking over heart and mind
steeling them against the harsher times.
And my value cannot be seen by prying eyes
I’ve hidden away what makes it a prize.
It’s yours to take, yours to see
because you’ve always only seen the best in me.
 

Forgive Me, I'm a Military Wife

Some days I will be a bear to bear.
 
I cannot promise to be on time
Every day of the week or any day of the week
Because I am a military wife.
 
I cannot promise to look put together
Every day of the week or any day of the week
Because I am a military wife.
 
I cannot promise to participate in every work event
Every day of the week or any day of the week
Because I am a military wife.
 
I will not promise to be a model wife, mother, or employee
Because I am a military wife
Because every morning I struggle to get out of bed
And face a world where I have to stand on my own
As a mother, as a husbandless wife, as a working woman just trying to get by
Where there are nights I do not eat dinner
Trying to rock my daughter to sleep
And I stay up after long hours of swaying and singing and shushing
Back bent, hair frizzed, clothing stained, weeping
Head throbbing through the night as she eats an hour at a time three times through the night
And I find spaces of sleep between her needs
Between times of insomniac manic worrying if my husband will come home:
 
Is he safe? Is he safe? Is he safe?
 
Heart racing, anxiety attacks building, body missing the security of my other half.
 
Because I am a military wife
And I too make a sacrifice.