a poem a day for a year #124

by Amy Turn Sharp


while I was reading poems
to a group of people
my little boy was across town
kicking a soccer ball through the air
the ball flew like a missile at the exact moment
I was doubting myself
looking at the red exit
speaking mumbling reaching
and the net took his ball in
took it in hard
and his hands flew up and he danced
on the field
and my hands found my face
at the podium
and later I knew the precise moment
we had thought about each other
it was when I had felt a wave of peace
rush my thoughts
some people feel God
some people feel this hand on their shoulder
but for me
I feel my children
kick
on the outside