The Perfect Moment
Maybe it was when you stretched out on the
couch and said, Sing me a lullaby,
the way you clutched the pillow to your chest
like a young child and I became the
mama who knew what to do for her boy.
Maybe it was when I settled myself to take your
head into my lap, the way you became the man
I had caressed those years of floating
out the evening until we could go to bed
and I would be comforted by human warmth
to mask our haunting fear.
Maybe it was the way you sank into sleep
and I watched your breath rising and falling
until my hand grew still and I fell back against the
pillow and slept as well, satisfied.
Maybe it was how you turned and I cradled you,
how the heat of our bodies lingered
in my hands and along my arm
right up into my heart and
caused me to remember desire and hope.
Maybe that is why I am making it
through memory and grief, the turning
of salt water into wine.
(c) Ceremonies of the Spirit 2009
