For Ian, on his Twenty-Sixth Birthday,

To My Ian

I take down April’s memories,

Of six and twenty years ago,

When heavy clouds hung dark and full,

And rain began to flow.

I felt a weight depart from me,

A sudden, hollow fear

"Is he alive?" I screamed, afraid,

That you were no longer near.

For silence filled the heavy room,

As shadows of a loss once felt

Stirred within the sudden gloom,

And all my courage dealt.

But you were being warmed and held,

While your father, in the grace

Of those years when love was still our home,

Kissed my brow and touched my face.

"Thank you for my son," he said,

Before the darkness grew,

And I recall no other thing

Until the morning dew.

After a night of jagged pain,

I held you to my breast

My Ian Robert Lawrence,

In whom my soul found rest.

Ian for my father, John,

And Robert for the line

Of saints and kin and storied names

That in our history entwine.

And Lawrence for the grandfather

Who gave you name and part;

I held you then, and hold you now,

Forever in my heart.

In the long years in between,

I have fallen, I have flown,

I have navigated seasons

Where the seeds of change were sown.

And though travel, time, and distance

Define this quiet space,

Nothing thins the cord of love

Or takes away your place.

So Happy Birthday, dear Ian,

On this twenty-fifth of April day,

I carry you through every year

Though you are miles away.

Whatever distance lies between,

Or seasons keep us apart,

You remain, my Ian,

The constant of my heart.

#birthday #nocontct #sons #IanRobertLawrenceBrowning #Mothers #birthdays