Dylan Thomas' poem Do not go gentle into that good night reminds me of my son very often when he is tired but forces himself to stay awake. We think that he knows when he is feeling tired and to keep from falling out sometimes he runs around screaming "watch out, watch out..." expending the last bit of energy he has left. Then as suddenly as he is whirling about, he might become exhausted and fall asleep nursing. It's really something to see. I hope he continues to approach life with the vigor and passion that characterizes these moments before he falls asleep. For now we're lucky to get to watch him rage against sleepy time.

frozen rage
a contorted face
mouse trapped on a glue board

that is how it feels
to fill flush with anger
unable to express pain and hurt

30 years of uncapped, unworthy feelings
are finally validated now

my bliss lies patient
in ignorance
of my feelings
what do i do when
when the motivation comes

like using an atrophied muscle
i suppose it is best
to move slowly and deliberately

your anger lies
taught and ready
to force me down
with your will
to break me
to kill my spirit

with words
like razor blades
slicing across my throat
you stifle my breath
i cease to exist
because of you

isa sits next to me
above the covers
waiting for it
i'm snug up to my neck
keeping the february air at bay
my loftbed
in a shared railroad apartment
sixth floor of
a cold water flat on east tenth
the street where beat poets
crashed on matresses
on floors in spartan tenements

looking to the east
she watches it every morning
the dark evening
giving way to paper light sky
until a juicy orange splash
bleeds upward from queens
rips through the pale wash of blue
and the crisp city air is new
with hope in tow
washing away
yesterday's regret

You rush in with the grit
of the September storm
that forced its way
in through the window screens.
You force me into bed
and keep me away from my son.
You test me and I'm not sure
I can survive you.
Each time I do. But I know
you will return.
I cannot fight you, so instead
I accept you.
Exquisite pain.
My unwelcome friend.

I wake to his sweet sounds
da, da, da
to his little hands pushing
against my shoulder
languidly, I crack my eyes open
because it's only 4:30 AM
he nudges me urgently
he points to something across the room
he's ready to meet the day with usual vigor and excitement.

Is there anything better
than waking like this?

I love being Lorenzo's daddy.

Away from you and home
your voice fills my heart
like the warmth of an unexpected compliment

Lorenzo nurses
As wind blows through trees above
The rustle of leaves

I read this on the BBS on Mothering Magazine's Web site.

I Took His Hand and Followed
My dishes went unwashed today,
I didn't make the bed,
I took his hand and followed
where his eager footsteps led.
Oh yes we went adventuring,
My little son and I...
Exploring all the great outdoors
Beneath the summer sky.
We waded in a crystal stream,
We wandered through a wood...
My kitchen wasn't swept today
But life was gay and good.
We found a cool, sun-dappled glade
And now my small son knows
How Mother Bunny hides her nest,
Where Jack-in-the Pulpit grows.
We watched a robin feed her young,
We climbed a sunlit hill...
Saw cloud-sheep scamper through the sky,
We plucked a daffodil.
That my house was neglected,
I didn't brush the stairs,
In twenty years, no one on earth
Will know, or even care.
But that I've helped my little boy
To noble manhood grow,
In twenty years, the whole wide world
May look and see and know.
-Author Unknown