Poem: Her Children

Her Children

 

When you were the little boy

in the white dress scattered with lilacs,

which was no different than

your pirate costume with the fake mustache,

 

You pretended to faint when the young man

from your favorite story appeared at

the height of our field with the brilliance

of the sun at his back and Amaterasu at his side.

 

With the ancient spirit’s blessing, he took your hand

so that you rose to your feet with a smile,

and it was then that your father became my father

and the part of myself I knew I had to put away,

 

Yet which I had never truly been

though never understanding why,

only now knowing this aspect had to die,

for it served no purpose anymore, not to you or I.

 

The old letters and leaves

of my words slipped from my grasp,

scattering upon the narrow but deep meadow stream

with my lamenting sigh.

 

“It is as it was meant to be”

my mother said softly to me

in mild rebuke, and noting my surprise,

“I am always nearby.”

 

This person who had never changed

from time’s beginning and who would

continue to bear and nurture far more

children of the Earth than  I.

 

As they melted into the water

my words upon the paper

became part of the circle again,

and she who had only ever seen a child

looked at us with new pride.

–Red Haircrow

September 2013