Sunday, June 21st 2020

By: 

Anne

Macaulay

My beautiful granddaughter Elisia was born in the first peak of the pandemic. I couldn’t meet her at first except online. This poem celebrates the first time I held her.

The grandmother wraps her arms round
until her right wrist meets her left elbow.

There had been such waiting,
such discipline, recognising the risk;

but it was time – they had stayed
isolated for weeks – a bond to be made.

The calendar says it is Father’s Day
but not according to the two heartbeats

and the two sets of eyes looking into
each other, one curious, one with tears.

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