A thousand miles away from you
I do not know where to turn.
I visit the Trappestine Monastery,
then sit on a bench by their small lake.
I read, I pray, I contemplate.
An anhinga hangs from a fallen tree
drying out like a sail in the wind.
A snakebird darts under
the water like a crafty fish;
a salamander separates from his tail,
then scampers away.
Thoughts of you beat in me
like the snowy egret's wings.
I think of your tiny body,
that mite of kidney,
that thread of tubing tangled
like knitting yarn.
These minutes, these hours, hang
like that still anhinga. I want to dive
with you into the smooth cool lake.
I want us to separate from the pain
like the salamander. I want to run
with you to a safer place.
--Donna Wahlert
About the Author: The poetry of Donna Wahlert has appeared in numerous anthologies and journals. In addition, she has published The First Pressing: Poetry of the Everyday.
"To a New Grandchild" was first published in Mothers and Daughters: A Poetry Celebration. It is also included in Child of My Child: Poems and Stories for Grandparents. Used by permission of the author.
Visit Child of My Child on the web.
