There is a Sound (and She is Eleven)

Last year on this date I posted about aging, and how a daughter turning ten made me feel old. Older than turning 39 or 40 or whatever. Well, today she is 11.

Eleven.

A decade and a year.

Egads.

Last year's post (here) included a poem I had written for Jolee when she was born. Here's another I may or may not have shared before:

THERE IS A SOUND

You that come to birth and bring the mysteries,

Your voice-thunder makes us very happy.

-Jelaluddin Rumi

There is a sound

at 2 a.m.

and it rings of need.

There is hunger, there is urgency,

there is the definition

of hope.

One voice announces

"I am here"

and there is no denying

she is the one

with my heart

firmly in her

hands.

©1996 William Dickenson Cohen

Happy Birthday Jolee!