Two Lauras

I should count myself blessed
to live eighty-nine and one-half years
and find myself sitting
in a far-away house
holding tight to my namesake
who shares my blood, the life of my life,
the passing on of my heart,
the handing down of the things that matter to me.
That matter to God.

I should count myself blessed
to arrive here and see
my own eyes in a young girl’s face.
Touching my cheek to hers,
as close as can be,
making invisible the lines
of nine decades of simple living,
of questions and tears, 
of wondering how it all ends
and praying on bare knees
and handling the here and now while always,
always looking to the future.

But here is the future:
time gathered together,
bound tight into the only moment that matters-
The very special space of

To sit with that future
held to my chest,
where two hearts beat together,
hammering the rhythm of life,
of dancing days.
Even now,
as her locks flow down
and small hands reach up
asking for love, giving love,
struggling to say:

here in the only real space
we can love each other,
are the answers to the questions,
to tears
and to prayers
and the wondering how it all ends.

For it ends with a beginning.

1 comment:

  1. I updated my blog. Your turn :)
    You know they say writing is good therapy.