The fallen watch closely
yet, mostly, they crowd our ear
words to tendered tears and flashes of fear
but when things get real
baby will split those fears
never alone
sitting together on our throne
but they still whisper.
Elusive to our eyes
and beating like our hearts
a workshop reminding us-
they path they walked
a how to guide of life
literature for months-
and we’re sorry in advance;
the present you gave us-
a map of a chosen path,
we’re not going to read this.
Map already filled with forks
already chosen. We’ll heed
but never follow.
Will make mistakes
but they’ll be ours
will make a right before a left
and it might be wrong
but it’ll be our right.
Will remember you-
flowers in hand
a loving kiss on stone
with grass in our fingers.
Will leave your map with you-
we know what you’re doing-
crossing out the mistakes you made
in the next life
but the crosses you made
were the crosses that made you.
Will sit here and sing-
and you hear with us,
singing in our ear.
