Photo courtesy of Scott Delmas Photography
ReadWritePoem offered a NaPoWriMo prompt for this, the third day of writing a poem a day for a month: Scared Yet?: Write about something that scares you.
As I watch my four children stretch toward adulthood, I smile--but also fear. Yes, such fear should be (and is usually) handed to God, placed at His feet, and prayed over daily, sometimes hourly. But it's a real fear, one I struggle against its power to push me under the black water and drown me.
My GirlCopyright 2010 by Susanne Barrett
Proudly, I look at her.
A young woman,
practically an adult--
stepping confidently into her future,
arms swinging, eyes eager.
Yet tendrils of fear lengthen,
embracing my throat,
choking my breath.
I burn--
my hands rippling outward
to touch her hair,
to brush her cheek.
Once she needed me
in everything--
for sustenance,
for taking first halting steps,
for tying stubborn shoelaces,
for leading her by hand into realm of books.
I unearth consolation
in her needing me still--
for encouragement,
for unyielding acceptance,
for discussing hem-and-haw of possibilities,
for watching Cary Grant movies on the sofa.
I hold the fears at bay--
pushing them out of swirling thoughts,
not allowing them a toehold.
I let go now,
snipping her strings--
so she may always find home
patiently awaiting her return.
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