I see you working hard for me
And wonder what it means:
Whether I will do the same
And give up my own dreams
To offer someone else my world,
A stranger from my womb,
And say: Here, take my life,
So you, not I, can bloom.
I often wonder at the depth
Of that cool sacrifice;
I know it can't be "just because,"
Or simply to be nice.
It is so awesome, I can't think
How I could make that choice,
Except I see something in you
That gives my own heart voice.
I see sometimes a happiness
Amid the stressed-out day
That no one else can hope to know
In any other way.
I feel it when you look at me
And understand sometimes
That things I do, I do for two,
And then your hard life shines.
And when I give you grief, I know
That all the bitter pain
Between a mom and growing child
Is simply like the rain
That alternates with sunny days,
Passion without end,
While underneath is more of life
Than we can comprehend.
And then I know, perhaps, why I
Like you might be so moved
To give my life to someone else,
And know that I have loved.
-Nicholas Gordon
|