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Benjamin’s Buttons
perfect, you emerged
from the other side,
the collective’s gift
wrapped in a challenge
yet to come
and unlike your brother,
you arrived
as a stranger to me
~and I, to you~
maybe it was exhaustion
or that you never cried
unless you were hungry -
I can only remember
feeling so unnecessary;
my maternal instincts
overbearing and gaudy,
although I’m now sure
I’ll never know quite how
I could have missed
~all the signs~
our shared path
was of broken cobblestone
walked by two acquaintances
who carefully stepped
with bruised bare feet
and who knew a little too much
of the other’s secrets;
our bond sure and uneasy,
your temper short-circuiting
these triggers I’ve worked hard
to disarm
~it’s all too familiar~
you are your own man now
or so we keep pretending;
this transition you’re in -
the season of becoming
the partner, friend, father
you will be,
is not a time for the reality
that you are not ready -
rather, it will be defined
by your own ability
to fake-it-‘til-you-make-it,
the same as all of those
blessed enough
to have crossed
the rough ocean
between boy and man
ahead of your arrival
~I have so much hope~
even as as you tread
that fathomless ink-water,
your fractured mind, a gift
from the coffers
of family jewels
long become worthless,
you are more aware
my dearest love
of the demons that play
in the deep;
so much more
~than they, of you~
from the other side,
the collective’s gift
wrapped in a challenge
yet to come
and unlike your brother,
you arrived
as a stranger to me
~and I, to you~
maybe it was exhaustion
or that you never cried
unless you were hungry -
I can only remember
feeling so unnecessary;
my maternal instincts
overbearing and gaudy,
although I’m now sure
I’ll never know quite how
I could have missed
~all the signs~
our shared path
was of broken cobblestone
walked by two acquaintances
who carefully stepped
with bruised bare feet
and who knew a little too much
of the other’s secrets;
our bond sure and uneasy,
your temper short-circuiting
these triggers I’ve worked hard
to disarm
~it’s all too familiar~
you are your own man now
or so we keep pretending;
this transition you’re in -
the season of becoming
the partner, friend, father
you will be,
is not a time for the reality
that you are not ready -
rather, it will be defined
by your own ability
to fake-it-‘til-you-make-it,
the same as all of those
blessed enough
to have crossed
the rough ocean
between boy and man
ahead of your arrival
~I have so much hope~
even as as you tread
that fathomless ink-water,
your fractured mind, a gift
from the coffers
of family jewels
long become worthless,
you are more aware
my dearest love
of the demons that play
in the deep;
so much more
~than they, of you~
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