First touch

It was indescribable,
prior to words,
formed in seeing and touching
my firstborn,
my son,
flesh of my flesh.

Skin red and rosy smooth,
body brought whole in perfection to
this world,
to this life of us.


Black hair mattered,
and eyes search,
looking around but
not yet seeing as he would
in years to come.

Eyes filling with tears,
lunging pressing hard
into living in this world.

This moment of awe incarnate.

This soul was me
but not me,
from me
and not from me,
one apart, but connected.

Then the touch
and the feel of skin
not roughened by time,
but soft from love’s
tender womb.

Euphoric, exhausted.

This is the welcome time,
cord still throbbing,
my heart beating,
and then the cut
that severed him
and made a being apart,
never to return,
but always present.

Soon enough
lips at breast suck
hungry for life,
and the eyes close
in sleep’s door.

On the outside now,
on the outside of this
lifelong romance.

Dozing in the half light
of the first day,
tender ‘tis the touch
of new born babe
on mother’s breast
and father’s heart.