Today You Are Born
By the end of the day, you will push and punch your way
from your mother, my sweet niece.
We know a lot about you, already.
Your name,
your substantial size,
your slot number three in the sibling lineup,
your ownership of more crap than any full
grown man would ever need.
We know the renewed excitement of a family beginning
to mourn more losses than gains.
We know how to change and feed you,
how to make it through the long nights,
and the delighted discovery days.
We long to celebrate and protect you.
Because you are tiny and helpless.
Because we have so much to know.
Because you will live in this country
where love is becoming a memory.
And you are Muslim.
In thought that is both Irish and Catholic, I fumble
with prayers of thanksgiving for our kinship,
and despair for all of the
tiny counterparts with you in the nursery,
as you enter through
portals that are far less welcoming these days.
So I pray for you and your nursery fellowship,
as you are lifted out and carried
into wildly separate lives,
That when the hard,
mean moments come, you will be reminded
of your identical beginnings.
Your confused, screaming, gassy beginnings.
Where the resounding chaos came ‘round right in the end.
And that whoever
each of you grows into being,
that you will flourish in pride and love,
and that your paths will always be
just and holy.
