Her Song (a poem)

This is a poem by Brad Buchanan of Sacramento about his 3-year old daughter. It could be anyone's daughter, well-loved.

Her Song of Hunger

I have stopped pretending
that life makes sense -
partly because I don't
deserve
the joy that shrieks at me
now from her chair.
smeared with Cherrios,
applesauce,
and the other ineffable
messes of breakfast.

The scream is high-pitched,
intolerable,
and necessary, the child
who makes it
is well-fed and happy, and
yet she yells
because even a beautiful
world
needs a shrill, discordant
note.

It's the newness that brings
each day to light
whether we're ready for it
or not -
and we aren't, though we
won't remember why
when it's dark again and
our ears are still ringing
like holiday bells from her
song of hunger.