Parent's Prayer

Listen to my wisdom then, when I plea...

There now is the pink of dawn whispering around the edges of the dark of the night

Bringing with it promises of new beginnings? More burdens? Busyness of yet another day’s toil to embark?

But don’t go yet Mr. God, do tarry a while.

There is something I need you to do for me

Give me strength, to go through another day

To watch a child, make wrong choices all day

My plea falls on deaf ears Mr. God

I ask my child, I beseech my child

To sit close to me and hear me well,

I’ve walked these roads before you my child

Some roads were smooth and some so steep,

I too have dreamt a lot and held secrets so deep.

I too have been drunk with joy and numbed with pain,

Danced in sunshine, stood in rain.

Each scar I wear, each line of wrinkle on my face that you see,

Holds a lesson that life has taught me.

Listen to my wisdom then, when I plea

Do not search for gold where shadows gleam,

Do you have a truth to hold onto, does your heart have the kindness to lead?

Even if you do, you will yet fall, as we all do,

And when you do, know that my arms will cradle you.

For every step, both near and far,

You will always be my brightest star.

Watch this universe my child, lift your head from that little lit metal square

Wonder, wonder, marvel at all the infinite worlds that spin beyond our sight,

All the revolutions round its lone star that they make, carrying within all their matter

Each turn a choice made, a path trod, a life lived, a laugh laughed and a tear shed

All of them spanning out into stories of “fate”, belonging to both young and old.

Multiverses, they call it my child

I wonder, is there a universe where I will never roam, full of choices I have NOT made, for lack of courage or for fear of failure?

Is there one where mountains conquered by my spirit call me home?

My splintered realities, and yet all entwined,

All the threads of my existence endlessly lined

In my version of the multiverse, all truths can be,

A cosmic dance of possibility, limited, but only by my vulnerability.

All my multiverses but fit into a tiny space, that cannot be seen, or touched, or even perceived,

Some call it a soul, some consciousness

All my choices made and shied away from, and the results thereof, it does contain.

Oh my darling, darling, whirlpool child!

How you stand tall since you could stand,

And I must stand like a flag, proud on its steadfast pole,

My fabric weathered by your cyclones, yet I must have it stitched and whole.

My colours fade in your tempests, my edges are frayed by your tempers,

Yet still must I fly, unbent, unswayed.

Because around me spins my whirlpool child,

A tempest and a joy, born both fierce and wild.

Whirling winds of boundless youthful glee,

A storm unbridled, so fast and so free.

And you too my dear, dear, child

With your silent strength that infuses me when shadows creep.

Such a steady weight, my grounding chain,

Holding firm through my joys and my strains.

Even now my flag flutters, although rather stretched and thin,

Caught between that storm and that stillness within.

One pulls skyward, one binds me grounded tight,

Both are my life’s reasons; both are my light.

For every gust and restless tide,

I shall stand my ground with love and pride.

A mother’s banner, bold and true

My whirlpool child, and my anchor too.

But look, hear the others speak in gentle tones, Mr. God

Of their children bright, well-tempered, known.

Their laughter laced with ease and grace,

While mine storms on, at a restless place.

Listen, Mr. God, listen to the others

How they light up speaking about their child

Their stories flow like streams so light

Soul to soul, there is no fight

While mine erupts like a tempest wild,

A heart untamed, a restless child.

I love them still, beyond their rage,

Beyond all the storms that shake our page.

Yet, in the quiet, deep at night,

I long for peace, for calm, for light.

Not for less of what they are,

Not to change them, no, may that be so very far from me

But oh Mr. God, just for a moment, to be soft and free,

Where love feels light—not lost at sea.

So as they chatter on about their offspring, proud and bright,

I hold my storms against the night.

And hope, one day, that the winds will wane,

And that love will shine through gentle rain.