By All That’s Holy

By all that’s holy–
which is everything, of course,
just because we, struggling
irregular fractals fail
to see the way we all
fit together, life glimpsed
in profile while the macro-
cosm gyrates in a syncopated
song we’ll never comprehend
or always (those two words
signify the black and white
world where praise lurks
and longs to sing)–
we rock together.
Your tummy hurts.
We snuggle in fleece
since preschool insists
you cannot return until
these ills have been digested.
At grandma’s house, well-rested,
we try out anger words.
Gobbledegook, fraggle so
when you’re three and angry,
how to convey your intense
emotions and be felt,
instead of invoking ire
that your bad word ignites.
I’m with you here. I understand
more than I did at three,
and even so, you teach me
with every look and hug
by all that’s holy.

Inspired by: Profile, Macro and Holy.