is to summon the strength of the ancestors.
Re-igniting torch passed
that rainy April day when Papasan was called home.
His smile, with bulbous and rosy cheeks
recall memories of Grandma’ Jean
and capture the crisp Virginia wind
that brought him home to me--
held him with my heart; inhaled his purity
left overwhelmed with the scent of duty
to tune his spirit
to the sound of tribal drums.
That his name translates to Prince is no coincidence.
His purpose permeated his Mother’s womb before his birth.
His arrival humbled me.
The Earth collapsed around me,
until all that was left was sun and sky--
vast with endless possibilities;
showered blessings of a continuing legacy;
all from a stare into this Man Child’s eyes.
It is more than his birth that fills my heart,
though his cries of hunger awaken me still.
It is the Witnessing of his twigs
as they sprout into branches,
while roots dig deep into Mother Earth;
And endless inquiry
of how, what and why
appointing me as teacher and student
simultaneously.
The calm of Queen Mother walks with him;
grace and dignity gifted thru her touch.
The intensity of the Warrior King
providing food and shelter on rainy days.
I sit as captive audience
and witness his beautiful struggle
to balance the two.
The breath of life resides in his chest,
delivered to us in the song of his voice,
nourishing me with each encounter
and with every stare
into this Man Child’s eyes.
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