Shining – a golden shovel

I remember when
I first saw you,
how fragile you were,
and so small,
bundled up in your
too big babygrow. I held you, cupped
in both palms.

I knew that for each
breath you took I held
mine a
little longer, a candleworth
of breath, like being under
water, feeling air trickle through the
pores of my skin,
just enough
to make me feel as light
as you. I wanted to
place a kiss on your head, begin
this love affair and
show you that I was as
fragile as you.

I was frightened as you grew
inside me, a light
that brightened and gathered,
exploded and settled in
the miracle of you.

And I became two.

That foggy November day turned clear,
held back raindrops.

I held it in,
that breath, and your
quick breath settled, your eyes,
closed, and I bathed in the warm
scent of you, while the pearls
of tears, shy
at first fell in  
silent rain. The
day turned to evening, lobes
of light shone in the twilight of
the ward. I still marvelled at your
soft cheek, your tiny ears.

Years later, grown and bloomed, even
as a mother yourself, you’re my child, always,
and I still bathe in the
radiant light,
the shining of
your eyes and a
sunrise smile.

You and me after
all these years, I am proud of your
achievements amid laughter and tears.

Kim M. Russell, 17^th April 2026

On this seventeenth day of April, our optional NaPoWriMo prompt is inspired by Sergio Raimondi’s poem, ‘Today Matsuo Basho Cooks’, which plays on a haiku by Matsuo Basho:

Crimson pepper pod!
Add two pairs of wings, and look—
darting dragonfly.

Our challenged is to write a poem in response to a favourite poem by another poet. I created a golden shovel from the first eight lines of the  beautiful poem by Carol Ann Duffy, ‘The Light Gatherer’.