the couch

Most nights

Before I fall

Asleep

On the couch,

I wander

To my daughter’s room,

To make sure

Her blanket

Is covering

Her

And that she

Is

Warm enough-

And still

Breathing.

Then,

I carefully

Walk

Into my own room

To make sure

That my wife

And the baby

Are both covered

And both breathing.

Each rise and fall of their chests, a blessing to me, keeping them here with me a little longer.

Then

I shuffle off

To the couch

To rest,

Before

Stumbling sleepily

Back to bed,

And the restless sleep

Of two tiny feet

And hands

Thrashing

In her sleep

And my restlessness.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 22, 2011

reasons

As I fumble

In the dark

To find

The bed

Without

Waking

The baby,

Clinging

To her mother,

Top of head

Barely

Protruding

From beneath

The blanket

Pulled up tight

To my wife’s

Chin,

I remember

Why.

I remember why,

At least

Until morning

Arrives.

Timothy Vance Jackson

December 22, 2011

Two daughters

They both sleep

Unknowing

Of my love

For them

And the fear

That only a

Father

Can have

Or understand.

They are

Blissfully

Unaware

Of my sleepless

Nights

And haunted

Daydreams,

Worrying

About the world

They will inherit

And my inability to wrap them in a shroud of protection and keep them away from harm.

They sleep,

In their

Separate beds,

Twitching

And snorting,

Wrapped in blankets

Between their limbs-

Chasing their dreams

And hurtling

Into the world

That awaits them

With open arms.

And I will

Stare blankly

At the ceiling

For hours

Again,

Trying

To figure it all out-

Hunting

(and aching)

For answers.

Before

I brush my teeth

And go to

Bed,

I will

Stand

At their beds,

While they sleep,

Kiss their sweaty little faces

And silently pray

That I have not failed

Them-

Will not

Fail them.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

October 16, 2011

small is big

Giiggles

From the back

Bedroom,

Mixed

With occasional thumps and thuds,

Fill

The evening

With

Such joyousness

And reminders

To remain

Thankful

For the biggest

Of small blessings

And gifts.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 30, 2011

In the other room

They’ve gone

To sleep

In the other room-

Snorts and grunts

And tiny snores

Float

Into my ears

As they twist

And turn

In their beds,

With blankets

Trapped

Around their legs.

Once in a while

I sneak in

To check

On them-

Just to

See them

At rest.

The daughters

And the wife,

All unaware

Of my watching

From the edge

Of their

Sleep.

Each rise

And fall

Of their tiny chests

Fills me with the hope of a new day and life filled with their voices and periodic pauses to say “I love you”, as they race away again.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 22, 2011

Sofa sucker

The sofa cushions

Are calling me

Again.

They have my name,

They know my weakness-

A total lack of

Sleep

And a false

Hope

Of a “short nap”

So that

I can

Wake up

And do a little more

Work

As the family

Sleeps

Quietly-

With a few

Snorts and grunts

And burps

From the other rooms.

In the dark

Of night,

While they rest,

I tap away

At the keys,

In the soft glow

Of my laptop-

Yearning

To hold them

Again-

Not worrying about deadlines

And print dates,

Or time

At all.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

August 4, 2011

I miss her

I miss her

Tiny fingers

Curled around mine

And the sounds

Of her

Growing

And changing

As she

Expands

Into the world

That has been

Waiting

For her

To arrive.

Across the globe,

With her mother,

Visiting family

And a country

That is hers

By birth

And passport.

The distance

Has been

Surreal

And difficult

To adjust to-

Even technology

Has failed

To close the gap

And seal the wound

Caused by the miles.

In a few more

Weeks

I will

Hold her

And her mother

In my arms

Once more.

Until then

I continue

To look at her

Pictures

Again and again-

Sometimes

With a smile

And sometimes

With a tear.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

February 16, 2011

untitled- January 3, 2011

She sits on the floor,

My tiny wife,

With our tiny daughter-

Who is growing

So fast

That she is no longer

Tiny.

Now

Nine months old

And already

Half her mother’s height,

She plays blissfully

Unaware

Of her own growth

And development

And even more

Unaware

Of her mother’s growth

As a mother.

The tiny woman

Who approached her

Pregnancy

With blissful ignorance

And very little fear,

Has become

Her own mother,

In many ways,

And without the convenience

Of proximity-

With her family

Half a globe

Away.

When our daughter was born,

The fear finally settled in,

As the

“What now”

Gripped her.

But now,

After just nine months

Of hands-on motherhood,

She has blossomed

And risen to the challenge

Of caring for

And shaping

A beautiful little life.

Her smiles

And laughter

Are so relaxed

And genuine-

Signs of a quiet

Strength

That only a mother

Can possess.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 3, 2011

Tiny snores

She’s asleep

At her mother’s

Breast,

With tiny fingers

Curled

Into knots

Of hair.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 19, 2010

Stillness

Sitting

In the dark

With the music

Playing

Just loud enough

To not wake

The baby,

Yet

Still

Reach my ears.

Timothy Vance Jackson

November 19, 2010