I want to break down the doors of his room
And call out “I am here! ”
But I
Wait.
(Watch fish in a fish tank)
Wait…
Wishing to hold his thin pink hands
Kiss every corner of his tear speckled face
Wishing him safety, comfort, and all my love.
All I want is to have him in my arms again.
Six years later:
“Silvio! Be careful! ”
I call out as he races up and down the street
On his bike with its training wheels
I watch his helmeted head pass parked cars,
Scanning the area for pick-up trucks, strangers, sticks in the road.
He rides over some loose gravel, topples.
I run to him, help him up,
Brush off his pants, inspect his knees for scratches.
“You ok, buddy? Good.”
A kiss on the head sends him on his way.
And I think back to those minutes in an Illinois hospital hallway
It was a staph infection, not a bike fall
And I wasn’t allowed to hold him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem