Poetry

Catch the Children

Dandelion (Taraxacum) in the wind
Dandelion in the wind

I want to catch the children

when they fall.

Tell’em,

“You can melt in my arms, chiquito.

I’ll absorb your pain,

I’ll absorb it all.”

 

“You can let your arms and

legs dangle, or you can

roll into my chest.

I gotchu baby,

don’t you worry about

the rest.”

 

I will hold them like

roots hold on to soil,

with a grip so steadfast,

they will rise erect Redwoods

ready for the toil.

 

I will Catch the children

like little hands

catch shooting stars.

Hold them the way

faith clings on

to hope, unbarred.

 

Cradle them to an

ancestral lullaby,

“Duermete mi niña,

duermeteme ya,

yo te cuidare y

tus alas volaran.”

 

Stroke their forehead

like water brushing

river rock.

Gently smoothing

their cuts and scratches,

wiping off the muck.

 

I want to catch the children

when they fall.

Clean their wounds

of the debris that

keeps’em in

the gall.

 

Hold their vulnerability

like dandelion seeds.

When they’re ready,

release them to the breeze.

 

I want to catch the children

when they fall.

Quiet them enough,

to hear their

ancestors’ call:

 

“We gotchu baby,

been rooting for you

all along.

Our oak limbs

sustain you, majestically

strong.”

 

And when the children fall,

like the autumn leaf,

they will return to their roots

and feel the strength of

the tree.

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