Two Bursts of Air

Two Bursts of Air

(“Because you are God’s children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into us to call out, ‘Abba! Father!’” Galatians 4:6)

She knew what she said before she could
lift herself propped up against the couch;
“mah”.

A single expansion of air, lips and lungs when
she could not find the first nestled retreat she ever knew.

She answered the phone; she was not supposed to;
she heard the voice, the first low vibration her skin had felt;
“dah”.

A single expansion of air, tongue and teeth when
she knew the joy of the first giggling she ever knew.

She wandered into his room, drunk on diapers,
and grabbed his leg to horsey ride;
“boy”.

A new expansion of air, throat and breath when
she knew the playful safety of big brother’s arms.

Dada, Mama, Bubba, Memaw, and Papaw; peanut,
noodle, booboo and bubbles. We all knew who,
we all hear her, we all see around the royal titles
christening our little broods. Dada can be sung like
an ancient ritual, dancing round the living room. Or
“Mama” can be a death wail in the middle of the afternoon.
Dada” can be red-in-the-face stomping stumpy legs away.
Or “Mama” can be the beginning of a sigh snuggled in
The best shelter on earth.

And Abba, I cry to you just the same, I sing. And
Abba, you call me son, or boy, or mickey, or hon.
I have cried, denied, amplified my longings with just those
two bursts of air. And, knowing all, you know I would
rather dance to that rhythm that entices us all to
The best shelter on earth.