For A Child on Her Own
by
Margaret Rozga

Christine rides the Empire Builder.

By now she's crossed Minnesota                                                                               

And in the dawn watches the great plains                                                                              

Of Dakota unfold as if they were the palm                                                                                

Of a hand extended, inviting her to dance.

 

Back before her first step                                                                               

I carried her in a pack on my back                                                                               

To lull her to sleep by the rhythm of my walk                                                                               

Not knowing how that set her                                                                                

To face another direction.

 

I followed Lincoln Creek, a city stream                                                                               

Up toward its source, saw rusted hubcaps                                                                                

Resist like rocks the spring flood water.                                                                               

She woke to trees nodding their heads:                                                                               

This way to the open water, yes, yes, yes.

 

This poem first appeared in The Wisconsin Academy Review (Fall 2000).

Used here with the author's permission.