the weight of you
This poem moved me. It’s been many years, but, oh, how I remember “the weight” of my children. Their little heads heavy on my shoulder, their warm breath on my neck, their sagging bodies in my arms. I love how the poet brings to mind the swaying back and forth that we seem to instinctively move into when we are holding infants. I remember that thought of “maybe if I sing it one more time” as I sang the lullaby again and again, waiting for those eyelids to close.
The Latin words interspersed throughout are the words to “Salve Regina.” In English, it’s known as “Hail Holy Queen.” I had to look it up. Links below to a choral rendition and, surprisingly, a version in the movie ‘Sister Act.”
the weight of you
by Sara Dietz
sometimes i wish
i could hold you forever
in that moment
between day
and night
when your head
heavy with sleep
rests on my shoulder
and i sing you a quiet lullaby
(your sister sings too
even when she doesn't know the words)
salve, regina
mater misericordiae
the weight of you in my arms feels different then:
still
and
quiet
and
safe
and
warm
vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
gone are the hours when the weight of you feels too much:
(when did you get so big?)
my tired arms begging for relief
as you beg for anything but the floor
(can't i just have a few minutes?)
your struggles to wiggle away,
down to the ground,
to find the nearest doll
or set of stairs,
to chase that bug
or eat that tasty piece
of sidewalk chalk
ad te clamamus, exsules, filii hevae
ad te suspiramus,
gementes et flentes,
in hac lacrimarum valle
gone is the protest of hunger
your belly full of warm, sweet milk
that lulls us both to sleep
gone is the never-ending need
to move
to play
and yes, to hit
and throw
and yank
eia ergo, advocata nostra,
illos tuos misericordes oculos
ad nos converte
i sing the ancient words as slowly as i can
shifting my weight
back
and forth
and back
and forth
and back
and forth
maybe if i sing it one more time?
i draw out the moment as long as i can
knowing all too well how soon the time will come
for me to relinquish my grasp on you
and lay you down
and let you take your fill of the sleep that prepares us both for tomorrow
knowing all too well how soon the time will come
for me to relinquish my grasp on you
and send you off to play with friends
to learn
to grow
to fly
ah, how quickly do the years go by...
can i make this moment last forever?
yet what would i lose if i did?
if we stayed in the dark
and the still
and the quiet,
i would never again see your sweet dimpled cheeks as your smile lights up the world
let your laughter turn my day
around
never again feel
your
tiny
feet
kneading
my
sourdough
stomach
as we lay in bed in the morning
never again watch you
t o d d l e
a c r o s s
t h e g r a s s
your knees locked
your feet spread wide
almost-but-not-quite falling
lifting up your hands
squealing with delight
et Iesum
benedictum fructum ventris tui
nobis
(post hoc exsilium)
ostende
and so, every night
although
i wish i could stay forever
with the weight of you pressing on my chest
your little heart beating
and your warm breath on my neck
i end my song
o clemens
i say goodnight
o pia
i lay you
(and this
i suppose
is motherhood:
the great detaching
to birth
to wean
to raise
to send)
down
o dulcis
forever feeling the weight of you
even as i
let
you
go
virgo maria