Parenting

My eyes lock with

His, the scowl on his

Small face takes my heartbeat,

My blood pressure,

So high I can feel it

Throbbing in my ears. I want

To scream and shout, and

As I open my mouth,

I feel the same scowl

Plastered on his face,

Stretched taut across

Mine. Him reflecting me.

I see his eyes hard,

Like mine. His lips pursed,

Like mine. His hands clenched,

Like mine. Like mine. Like me.

All that makes me angry in

Him, I see first in me.

It’s everywhere in me

I want to scream,

Claw at my chest and tear,

Rip my own self out

Of my parenting, I wonder

If I could be a perfect

Parent, would he be

A perfect child?

I want to cry, scream,

Wail again, but not in

Frustration. This time

I want to scream from

Sadness, despair, hopelessness.

I can never be who

I am asking my child

To be. What can I do?

What. Can. I. Do?

My breathing tears, burns

Sharp and painful inside.

But truth rises in me

Like a trumpet,

Like a song sung to

Summon hope.

I cannot make him perfect, partly

Because I cannot be perfect.

But I can teach him

Humility. Asking forgiveness.

Self awareness. Admitting

Failure and getting up to

Try again. I can teach him

Dependence

On God. And hope

For change and growth beyond

His own capacity. I can

Teach him all this because

I can live all this.

I can live humility and

Forgiveness and dependence.

Grace and honesty and

Self-awareness and hope in

Someone greater than myself.

I can teach him, what I can

Live myself. And I am not

Able to live perfection, but

I can live grace and hope and

Humility and surrender. So

My eyes lock his

Softening to meet his iron

Gaze, and I relax.

Apologize. No but.

It’s just there, the offer,

The apology for

Him to accept or not.

A going first.

He can make his

Choice. I have made mine, and

I pray he will follow.

• Alesha Sinks