I think of the day he was born
damp black curls, little round mouth
telling the world he didn’t want to be here
that first lesson – how hard it is to love
I think of the morning we came home
my head ringing with don’t pick him up
my heart beating like that tap dance
that first lesson – how hard it is to love
I think of all those words, the tellings
the books, the auntie, the neighbour
the slow awakenings – this is forever
this ongoing lesson – how hard it is to love
And as we stumble, recover, keep walking
one foot in front of the other, failing
smiling, crying, laughing, hugging
that forever lesson – how hard it is to love
and how easy.
Renée
