After Amanda's Poem, "Flight"

Flight

By Amanda Irwin

Your heart pumped gently under 

the curvature of my ear;

wings beating low and deep.

Inspired By

I grew up holding babies
During Sunday service
Held darling infant boys in my lap
That peculiar, indescribable scent-

The sweet down of baby hair-
Mingling with my own Sunday perfume
As they rested their delicate skulls, so unknowingly vulnerable
Against my breast
And sighed.

Heartbeats mingled
And I felt a duty I had never known
To protect a child; not my own
I thought of him- of each of them- growing up to be a handsome young man

And all the ladies fawning
And I wondered if I would tell him
That I held him when he was small
And I held him when he cried;
I thought about his future.

Tonight I nestle in the crook of your arm
Carefully place my fingers against
The fighting pulse in your neck

I kiss your earlobe and sigh;
Consider how much older I am now

And no one holds me in their lap
I cannot rest my head against my mother's breast
Instead I have taken on that role

And yet

I still need to be held.

Just as that little baby boy
Will someday turn seventeen
Or twenty-three
Or thirty-two
And he too, will wish he still had a beating heart 

Against which to rest

His head.