When my son was born, my wife and I purchased a wonderful contraption that allows parents to listen in on their sleeping babies.
The poem "For My Son Who Talks In His Sleep" was inspired by an incident in the middle of the night when I woke to my son's babbling coming in over that nursery monitor. I listened for a while, then drifted back to sleep.
In the morning over coffee, I remembered that midnight serenade and how it sounded as though my son was speaking in two different voices, like characters in a dream play. The possibility of his having already discovered the joy of storytelling occurred to me. At what age does imagination begin? Are we ever able to fully comprehend our own inherent powers of creation?
My son's babbles sparked those questions – and this poem:
For My Son Who Talks In His Sleep
The babble of babies
rises again in your room
and I wonder what new friends
you are making tonight.
Not yet two,
you have learned the joy of dreaming,
the endless gift, my son, of making
the make-believe come true.
Before you were born
a fortune teller told your mother
we would have an author
for a son.
And I want you to know
how much I love
hearing this story
you are telling tonight.
Exquisite lamb,
you lie awake in dreams
conversing with
the other angels.
Your waking world
will never count you in
as just another sheep.
Creation is yours for the making.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
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6 comments:
Beautiful poem, I enjoyed reading it :)
What a gorgeous and touching poem Thanks for sharing
This is so lovely - I've heard that same kind of babbling recently from my grandson!
Thanks for the kind comments. You can tell when a father misses his son...who is now in college. ;-)
My daughter is expecting our first grandchild next month. We're looking forward to listening in on some new inspirational babbling.
This is lovely! I remember that babbling, too, though it's been a few years ....
What a beautiful poem--so touching.
And congratulations on the grandchild on the way. How exciting!
Gisele :)
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