A poem for my daughter on the eve of her 366th day

And What, Friends, Is Called A Road?

And what, friends, is called a daughter? If there is, friends, a little girl,

impressionable, precious, complex, in need of love, desiring of security,

warmth, kindness, giving of kindness, who is brave, who witnesses

storms in awe and in fright, who enjoys big trees, has seen the fighting

of her parents, owns a teddybear, goes with a teddybear, carries a white

stuffed polar bear throughout her childhood, who is five, who is six,

who is nine, who makes little camps in livingrooms, or in the backs of

great cars, who is as an enfoldment of joy and whose life, despite her

parents’ efforts, is still surrounded by the causes of death, who is ten,

who still finds grief, whose small hands are growing away, whose large

eyes are growing away, whose funny way of talking is growing away.

This, friends, is called a daughter.

by Gabriel Gudding from Action Yes Online Quarterly

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s