WEEK 34 (Back on the TGV)

Now that I watch your mother dreaming in sleep

Rocked by the rhythm of the train

Head against the window

Wide fields pouring past us

It all looks so inevitable

But in case you don’t remember

You came to us once before

In Paris one afternoon

Your mother felt funny

She went to the pharmacy &

Came out positive

All of a sudden nothing was the same

Not the sky spreading Spring

Not the Seine caught with light

Not even us

We took a walk instead

No hand holding so no thoughts

Only one look when we found

Ourselves in a store I don’t remember

& together we inquired separately if

That hat in blue satin came in brown

We left without an answer & sat

On a bench facing traffic

To blur the hollowness but the hollowness never left

Until you did

The morning of a week later when

Blood woke your mother &

The hollowness turned to pain

The pain to realize that you left because

We were not ready

But that was enough to tear the mask off all

The fear hiding behind

Those meticulous manicured voices

Wagging their reasons why not instead of

What if

& once we understood this

You came back & we

Are once again in Paris

On the same train

In the same room

With the same footsteps

On the same bench

Sharing the same silence

Not of hollowness this time

But wholeness

The wholeness that comes with peace

The peace behind the leap of faith

The faith we touched when we rested our

Hands over your mother’s belly

& on that park bench in Paris

Blessed you as best we could &

Thanked you for having granted us

This second chance