What We Know

The monsters under the bed are real.

That is the secret,
dear heart,
that we are keeping from you.

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So much of who I was – before –
I’ve folded up and filed away.

Sometimes – opening a long-forgotten drawer – I find myself there, shelved, sleeping,
and I gaze with wonder – and the faintest stir

of recognition.

As a parent I have learned –

That –

Necessity is no respecter

Of necessity.

When I was young,
so very young,
and I had all the world and time
for every venture,
for every fancy’s flight,
still
I never had enough.

Now,

I cram an hour in an instant,

And luxury is easily found.

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White towels washed with lavender,

once,

weeks ago.

And today

their clean and blossomy scent

carried me clear across the sea,

while my baby slept.

So you have seen the Taj Mahal,
Strolled through Paris arrondissements,
Lingered in the light of Chartres’ rose, and
Danced in tropic rains.

While I – ?

Well, I
have curled in the confines of one room,
fed, rocked, guarded, sung and prayed

for one new soul.

But perhaps –

after all, my friends –

I have traveled just as far as you.

The heart is soft at bedtime –
a wise old pastor said to me –

So spend it with your children.

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