Child of the setting sun
Child of the setting sun
(c) Roberto Isaza
Our Children, Our obsession
Our first child is born
it is then we start to understand
the meaning of fear.
We fear for our present,
of not being able
to be there for them,
we fear for their future.
Enjoying the few intervals
of plain delight,
their very smile,
their first steps,
proto-words
that become an “I love you”
mommy , daddy.
We pain for the
heartbreaks
they soon will experience,
their frustrations
become ours
as well as their triumphs.
We fear for them
out in the world
without our protection;
he isn’t home yet,
hasn’t called.
Is he ok?
God keep him.
Please!
Hoping against hope
that the tools we gave them
are enough to stave back
the harsh light
of reality.
Be well my child,
god bless you
always.
© Roberto Isaza
October 23, 2005
(c) Roberto Isaza
Our Children, Our obsession
Our first child is born
it is then we start to understand
the meaning of fear.
We fear for our present,
of not being able
to be there for them,
we fear for their future.
Enjoying the few intervals
of plain delight,
their very smile,
their first steps,
proto-words
that become an “I love you”
mommy , daddy.
We pain for the
heartbreaks
they soon will experience,
their frustrations
become ours
as well as their triumphs.
We fear for them
out in the world
without our protection;
he isn’t home yet,
hasn’t called.
Is he ok?
God keep him.
Please!
Hoping against hope
that the tools we gave them
are enough to stave back
the harsh light
of reality.
Be well my child,
god bless you
always.
© Roberto Isaza
October 23, 2005