Thank God for Bumps and Bolts

Yesterday I bumped my head
so hard, I thought it bled
I sat down rubbing a promising bulge
grimacing, griping, cursing
For good reason I thought of you
Striking and as sharp as the blow
If you were here, now, at this instant,
you would have cooed and soothed,
fretting and clucking, your tears
would have drenched my wound
attempting to wash away the pain
while I sniff at the throb, in vain
trying to childishly seem old(er)
you would have tried to comfort
silently, quietly, in your own strong way
and I would have brushed aside
your fingers, your concern, your love
callously, annoyed with myself
ashamed to be hurting
embarrassed to be weak
so self consumed would I be
that I would not have noticed
your eyes smarting
or your lip trembling
your fingers curling
or your head turning
Serves me right that yesterday
when I bumped my head
you were not there
that you might be spared from
my wrath, my shame, my impatience
I wipe away tears of regret
remembering not to be
as I am prone to be when…
someday I bump my head again
and you rush to comfort me
I now understand Ma
My folly, your patience
My ways and your ways
I pray that someday,
they will be the same
your way and mine

28 Sep 2007
Seattle - after an accident at the Ikea