The floorboards are still allowed to creak because of him.
The story is proven to be unfinished by his bright, messy presence,
even after another narrator dropped the pen and walked away.
When his face is seen, impossible truth is revealed:
Nothing is taken away from my life by his existence,
but every quiet joy I never expected is multiplied.
The hungry mornings are unknown to him,
and the silent shame of wanting something simple is hidden from him.
What is known to him is the warmth of my hand,
the sound of my tired but real laughter,
and the steady truth that I am always there.
Our life is not painted as easy or perfect.
It is made up of rushed mornings,
careful dinners, and homework arguments.
It is imperfect, yet full,
rich in the only thing that truly matters: presence.
When he is tucked into bed
and his small, warm body leans in for one extra second,
the years of struggle are pushed into the background.
The loneliness of raising him alone is briefly overshadowed
by the deep, complete feeling of being truly needed.
The world is seen through his trusting eyes,
a trust that had to be earned back by me.
Tomorrow is believed in by him,
a belief I work hard to hold onto.
In his eyes, I am not seen as a disappointed daughter.
I am not remembered as an abandoned woman.
I am simply seen as: Mom.
That word is not a title of comfort.
It is a heavy and beautiful promise.
Each morning, my own laces are tied tighter,
because failure is not an option.
Fear is swallowed so that bravery can be taught.
Strength is found when none is felt.
And he, my son, is the reward.
A quiet harbor has been built within my storm through him.
A small, determined hand pulls me out of bed each day.
Pure, unburdened love is poured over old memories,
washing away what was once missing.
An anchor has been dropped into my life because of him.
My direction has finally been set.
Because of him, survival is no longer all that is being done.
Leadership has been stepped into.
And every day, the future is entered together,
side by side,
whole, steady, and unbreakable in our small unit.
The hidden power of alone time by walking shadow poetry
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17cisWXmSA
Leave a Reply