🍿 Poetry Snack: “Boy, I’ll Be Your Mother”

Plus some happy changes coming to The Diving Board!

I launched The Diving Board 4.5 months ago, on January 16^th. My goal was to get it off the ground, learn from a few months of posting, then re-evaluate and develop a more informed strategy for how to run this newsletter community. 

And the time feels right to pause and reflect. This week, I hit an exciting milestone: 500 subscribers! Feels like my little baby newsletter is starting to crawl, or eat solids, or sprout a molar…or something.

Proud of you, lil’ newsletter!

I want to say “long live the Queen” to my incredible operations leader, Jill. She’s given me astute feedback and guidance as I prepped to launch The Diving Board, and ever since. (You have her to thank for some posts never seeing the light of day because they were just tooooo looooong). 

Last week, Jill helped me plot out a refreshed approach to this newsletter with the goal of making it more dynamic for you and sustainable for me! Most of the ideas were hers, and I love them.

In the coming weeks, you’ll be seeing some different types of posts, including shorter posts and community conversations about topics chosen by you. I’m excited to share the next chapter of The Diving Board with you!

For today…..a poem. 

This one is for Amos. 💙

Amos, and his soul

Boy, I’ll Be Your Mother

Boy, I’ll be your mother 
when you are leaping from the cliff
hoping wind will find your wings, 
when you foolishly, beautifully trust the breath of God 
to catch and carry you through sky. 

When you wander aimlessly
through cracked-dirt wilderness, 
stumbling, delirious, thirsty for the way,
I will be your mother then. 

I’ll be your mother, boy,
when your feet, formed in my womb, 
walk you to the ends of the earth,
when you’ve forgotten where you started 
and believe you are only then beginning.

Boy, I saw you right away 
for what you are, 
old soul in a small body.
My teacher, 
come to me from the stars. 

When your skin withers,
when bones ache and organs fail, 
when this cycle of the sun is spent, 
when you remember me, long gone, 
and wonder what awaits you in the light,
I will be your mother then.

Amos, 10 years on

See you next time on The Diving Board.