Falling asleep,
I thought about
the mind being
like a cloud taking in rain.

I thought about bringing the mind to hover
over a lake of kindness—
a basin of sweet water to soak up.

And then I thought about the mind being fragile,
like the web of a spider,
and strong like the web of a spider.

I thought about watching the weave,
the way one thread connects to a nexus
and they constellation out,

I thought about watching the cloud-web take the shape
of a five-year-old,
and about the things she’d need to grow up free:
challenge, gentle words, and me taking her seriously.

If my mind were a five-year-old I would not say,
“You’re such an idiot.”
I would not say,
“You’re going to make everyone mad.”
I would not review her many faults throughout the day.
I would not suggest that she was boring people with her talk,
or tell her she was selfish and lazy.
I would not say she was “too” anything or “not enough” something else.

I would say, “One thing at a time,” and “You are the only you there can be.”
I would let her smell the fresh chocolate-chip cookies I made just for her.
I would let her study the spider’s art.
We would go outside and look at clouds.

©2020 Katherine Grace Bond

Poem: Mind