Hands

I came all this way to ask you to watch me leave through the backdoor Of a house I call child’s play. To hold my hand as I cross the line I call my childhood And abandon this child like mind behind Along with a trade for an even less childlike body. But don’t hold it as firmly as you did on my first day of school Even though I’m just as scared as I was then. I need you to gently hold my fingertips. For I still love you But my voice speaks tones empowered by God Which are reminiscent of my father, his father, and his father. For I still look up to you But you chose to bear children with a tree of a man which is where I get my height from So I look clear over you. For I tell you every day how you’re a present to my life that’s irreplaceable. I’m at the age where sooner than later another will have to take your presence. Only the very tips mommy Because you carried me in life the way God carried the man through the sand Until you put me down and held a tight grasp on my hand. That loosened with every tear you shed for me becoming a man. It was your bittersweet reward that I followed your plan. But soon ago when my best friend almost died And I laid down into your chest and cried for three days And you were well aware that for 72 hours I reverted back to my childish ways Where in my childish days I would abuse your love Because I knew mommy’s love can naturally take away pain But make sure you let go finger by finger So in the end you truly can Say you turned a fetus to a man And carried him until he can Make his own footprints in the sand.