Little Man

Little Man

I will not know your children; 

And even if that may not be so

they will not know me

As I run to you,

holding your hand

walking beside you with the camera

we bought for you on my birthday.

They will not know how content

when I rub your head and back,

Mr. video child who colors in the lines

as calm as a baby bird,

patient and prepared

with intensity that wraps around resilience.

I told your mother

I could not love her children 

as much as I loved her;

then, I couldn’t imagine anyone able to stretch love

beyond that loyal vast place. 

I was right but also wrong

because the lives I will lie down for--

your father and brothers too--

I would not equivocate, 

my clear decision so all of you

may all hold steady.

In the kitchen 

just before we reached the table

you came quickly, and wrapped your arms around my legs 

from nowhere, and we acknowledged. 

I will remember that moment that cannot be altered, 

our affirmation to the last breath.

I tell you I love you

and you tell me you know. 

I tell you it’s okay

and you tell me no:

you should have known the ornament was glass,

you say, not the wood you expected when you bit into it.

I tell you six years is not long enough

to know all that 

but I stop from adding that even sixty years

is sometimes not long enough.

Even Adam bit the wrong apple 

And even your Grandmother's lost a gamble.

I can’t protect you, little man.

But I will be your audience forever 

and I will applaud every achievement,

every misstep, every mistake.

I will hold you in my arms even when 

embrace is at a distance.

It means everything to come first sometimes

and I and your family will show you that.

You are six years old today; 

You, a poet, a gamer, a Patriot, a colorer, 

a child who will watch me age,

understanding how easily I bend 

to love all that you love too. 

Happy Birthday Ryan,

love Gram