Thoughts of My Child

My Child

There are times I look at my child,

And think of the pain of a lonely pregnancy;

how unsure I was of myself,

how scared and alone I felt.

I see my little boy,

wishing he had a father,

to help him fix a toy truck;

to teach him to hit a ball,

to make him be good.

And I wonder did I do wrong?

have I hurt my child?

I remember feeling resentful,

for bringing him up alone;

for being tied down,

then feeling guilty,

for feeling this way.

Then I look at my son

looking at me full of trust,

smiling, saying he's happy;

that I did no wrong,

that I haven't hurt him.

I look at my son,

and he clutches my hand,

and he tells me his secrets;

I hold him - and I know he'll be fine,

and so will I.

- For we have each other.

This is a poem I wrote long ago, when my son was very little. Still a baby, in fact. Now he is 46 years old, all grown up. Time passes quickly. I am not posting this for his birthday or any special day. Just that I recently spent some time with him and realized that everything turned out okay after all.

Copyright © 2016 Kathleen G. Lupole

All Photographs Copyright © 2016 Kathleen G. Lupole

Updated 2018