The Common Thread

No one tells you about the secret umbilicus
the one that cannot be severed,
try as one might

Some days, it aches with the heaviness of
so much time and experience passed between us,
mother and son
daughter and mom

It is such work to stay connected
and yet
no work at all
--not with this cord that lassos and extends,
always without permission

I watch the sun-dappled clouds, like scoops of orange sherbert,
push southward this morning,
steady and sure.
Droplets of water, come together long enough
to make something larger, more beautiful than themselves

I get it.
I really do.

--This life is larger than me.
Larger, more beautiful, more complex
and always--always--in motion,
even when I cannot sense it

The cord will hold, I suspect,
having done its job so well
up to this point.

This I know--
We will always be connected,
despite the 1,038-mile-per-hour
ride we take each day,
   our lives spinning
   the arc widening
   the cord holding, holding, holding.