On a New Grandchild from China

To the birth mother of Ariana Lily

By Freddy F

You had to have
bonded with the growing roundness as it beat —
loved her when you bled her into being —
when you left her on the doorstep
of the abandoned children's place
"wound in a pink wool blanket
with the umbilical cord still wet —"
(that was the entry in the Register).

When you brought her there
that night, did you dream of a day
when she'd draw her new world
in through ears like sculpted opals,
and deep brown eyes —
when she'd lift her chest
and purse her lips to utter
her first words in English, "Doggy woof!"

How long did you linger
when you looked at her that last time —
how much did you despair before escaping
to a numbness of being - to some acceptance
of your own open wound,
of your daughter null and void in the land
of her birth. How blessed we are by her,
and we bless you.

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