A magnificent book of hope and resolve written out of profound losses, by award-winning poet Mark Wunderlich
I am free from longing to be free; I do as I please,
my money is my own, all the mistakes I make are only my mistakes.
What is it to look at something you made and see the future?
What is it to have someone made by your body, but whose mind
remains just out of reach? I’ll never know. Come here, little rabbit.
Eat these greens. I will pet your cloudy fur with the mind’s hand.
—from “The Son I’ll Never Have”