My son has found another key to the sky.
He lofts himself so high he pulls the air from me.
Watching him, waiting until I can breathe a full breath,
I see him framed in blue. I see him turn
and my stomach turns. I rest my palm over my middle,
the way I did when I first felt him move, roll and kick.
Was the joy and the panic in equal measures then?
Was he bound to strive against any and all bounds?
He wants me to see it all, calls Watch this! every time I turn away,
so I stay and cheer a little insincerely: Beautiful back flip!
Yes, that probably was six feet of air!
But I think too much, too high.
Much too high, dear boy, though I know you’ll continue to fly,
the space of sky between you and me will grow larger than both of us.
For now we measure it in a span of arms, wings, spanning a time
when your life rounds off mine, a high turn against the blue bounds.
~ June Sylvester Saraceno, junesaraceno.com
