Why do we grieve the passage of time
and curse the speed of a moment?
Why are we mad at growth
as if it can help it's purpose?
We cry out to it: please slow down,
ask the children to stop growing
as if it growing is something
they are not supposed to do.
As if a child getting older
goes against the natural order.
Perhaps we are sad that a moment passes
before we can soak it in.
But would we not be more sad
if the moment never happened?
If the only way to make time stand still
came to us
as if it is something
any of us actually want.
As if we'd ask for the most terrible thing
just to make a baby keep.
Sometimes they do.
Sometimes they are not going to get any older
before our eyes
and between our blinks.
Sometimes they stay the very same size
as they were when we first met them.
We know this.
We attended the funeral.
For some time can't move fast enough.
But here we are anyway
asking the children to stop growing.
