Aiden

Hello world

he seemed to say

with one eye open

as he gazed at life.

Seven pounds

fifteen ounces

infant warrior.

Hello snow 

blizzard raging.

Hello mother,

father,

grandmas,

hello nurses,

doctors.

Hello world,

wrinkly fingers and toes,

dimples,

footprints engraved on our souls.

Hello world,

sucking noises,

sighs,

sweet cries, 

the sounds of the Wheels on the bus,

abc's,

paw prints on the sidewalk.

Hello world,

breath,

love,

peace,

I am Aiden and

I am ready to celebrate it all.

Photo credit to Robert Cernuda. You can find him at Robert Cernuda.com

Little One

What do you see in your dreams

little one?

sheep that you count

white and dreamy

like the billowy clouds above.

What do you see in your dreams

when you sigh in your sleep,

green endless fields,

yellow and black Labrador retrievers?

Do you smile because you see

your mother and father gazing

at you with adoration

sparkle in their eyes.

Do you dream about

your maternal and paternal grandmothers

rocking you to sleep gently and lovingly.

What do you see in your dreams

little one?

The sun shinning through 

the gray morning

as the snow melts off

the bare trees

outside your window.

Milk and sweetness

life and love.

Do you see the future smiling on you,

what do you see my love?

 

 

Photo credit to Robert Cernuda. He is a gifted photographer and artist in the New York area.

Aiden Karl Ethan

My precious grandson was born February 8th. I am over the moon with love and gratitude.

Breaking the chain

Dad,

I stand before you a man,

inward a young boy,

a spectator of our life.

The man has no expectations,

the boy remembers.

You left me on the shore,

like husks and shells

that you stepped on. 

The boy remembers shining

to your blind eyes.

Your acceptance

not felt, nor voiced.

Your arms never stretched

to raise me,

to lift me.

My stories were chatter,

you did not want to hear.

Sound bytes buried

as you became increasingly

irritated by the tone

of my voice.

You were deaf,

your mind self absorbed.

Whores and drugs seduced you,

friends and the bottle captured

your attention.

I was an after thought,

oblivious to my needs

you lacked empathy.

I searched for light in your eyes,

I waited for a kind word,

but encouragement and respect

were not in your vocabulary.

Dad,

I stand before you

 as a man,

as a father.

I am not you,

your errors and indifference

shaped me,

your road-map not my own.

The sounds of my children are
the dearest

to me,

their pain is mine to carry.

No task too great,

no sacrifice enough.

I encourage,

I nurture,

I lift,

I broke the chain.

I am the immigrant-I am an American

Bury me in a pine box

breathless yet breathing.

I won't leave,

I won't go.

I rested my weary head

on her shoulders.

Her courage,

became my own.

I swam in her oceans,

I climb her hills and mountains.

I swore my loyalty,

my allegiance.

Her flag engraved across

my heart,

the stars and stripes my own.

I brimmed with emotion

and devotion.

Her outstretched arms

embraced me,

took me in.

She whispered words of inclusion,

she roared words of freedom

and love.

I am not a stranger,

this is my home.

I am an American,

I won't leave,

I won't go.

Happy 31

 

 

 The years slip away,

the days evaporate,

the moments sustain us,

love remains and thrives.

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday to my boy! I love you always and forever <3 br="">

 

 

Sixteen

Sixteen

is the handsome boy

that feels like an

ugly duckling.

Sixteen

is wise remarks

that make me laugh

even though I restrain myself.

Sixteen is dark humor 

mixed with silly undertones.

It's tousled curls in his hair

when it was always lank.

Sixteen is a world

I want to step into

as I sink into a marsh.

I try to remember

my sixteen,

my youth,

my insecurities,

and struggle 

to mirror his uncharted sea.

Sixteen is loving

in small gestures,

it's late nights,

boundless energy,

it's heavy and light.

Sixteen

is sinking into a computer screen

for endless hours,

talking to friends

while saying nothing

of importance.

Sixteen

resides in a room 

that resembles a dungeon.

The only beacon are keepsakes

buried in the closet and chest

of drawers.

He is witty like Stephen Colbert

and funny like Jon Stewart

not that I would compare him to either.

He is unique,

this sixteen unparalleled 

to any other.

This is his path to walk on,

and mine to follow from a distance

with unconditional love.