Help! Love, MOM

Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord:
and the fruit of the womb is his reward.
As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man;
so are children of the youth.
Happy is the man that
hath his quiver full of them

Psalm 127:3-5

My “quiver” is filled with just one “arrow.”

My daughter, my only child, is one of the lights of my life; a poem in flesh and bone.

I revel in who she is. I enjoy her company, her insights.

I both love and like her.

I love that she’s a serious Christian: biblical, thoughtful, informed and bold.

She is brilliant, beautiful, a little quirky, and blessed with a, generally, buoyant personality.

A reflective iambic phrase meant to penetrate your malaise and mine; my daughter is tough, street smart, and sassy – other “musts” in NYC. No lie. Look it up.

I love my baby; I don’t deserve her. Our relationship, close without being cloying, is a space to freely breathe. She truly is the best daughter a mom could have.

She, herself, and our time together is a gift, a heritage from God.

My sweet and spicy girl (who is an adult) is also a poet.

ENJOY and do check out her other poems on Instagram.

Blessings!

xoxoKimberly

Mothers meet in public spaces
And catch up on what they’ve missed, early
On Harlem Saturday mornings

Young gifted men get ready to present their talents
As old men walk off their troubles, early
On Harlem Saturday mornings

Strangers nod a hello
And compliment good manners good behavior good driving, early
On Harlem Saturday mornings

Deliverymen drop off breakfast
While people with plans make their way home from errands, early
On Harlem Saturday mornings

People walk their children and their old people
Their dogs and their worries, early
On Harlem Saturday mornings

The homeless wander unhelped
Unbothered and unafraid

The thoughtful meander
Unbothered and unafraid

Early on Harlem Saturday mornings

7/19/25 9:30ish am, traveling from home (in Harlem) to the Met Museum on the M2 bus