Lifted Weight

A sleeping child, swung high,

into a father's arms, out of the light.

And I thought of that strange, sudden fright

of being lifted, years gone by.

Not a choice, but a sudden claim,

the floor gone, the world tilted wrong.

A scratchy sweater, a lullaby song

I can't quite place, or give a name.

Just the feeling, soft and brief,

of surrender, of being held.

A comfort, then, not to be quelled.

A kind of buoyant, fleeting relief.