Poems Written by Latanya Sweeney

Blood Passage

My hands are old and withered,
   surviving life's difficult storms.
My back is bent and curved,
   carrying the weight of the world.
Gray hairs adorn my head
   in honor of time spent.
But how my blood runs young again,
   when I hold the newest born.

Into my arms you descend,
   crying the music of life.
I hold you and hug you,
   and keep you warm and safe.
No one had better touch you
   in any way but good.
You are a special bundle,
   my hope, my pride, my joy.

I will teach you and show you.
   We will share times good and bad.
Your first step, your first words,
   will make me smile again.
When you fall, as you must,
   I will rise you to your feet.
You grace my life with meaning,
   and make my soul complete.

I am old and you are young.
   We span two hundred years.
I know the past five scores,
   you hold five more still.
Really we go back further,
   ten thousand years and more.
In our veins, our ancestors
   roar forever strong.

I am the past; you are the future.
   Their legacy travels on.
Passion burns inside myself,
   of people and times long gone.
You carry them all with you too,
   my mother, father, and all.
You are their eternal seed,
   for you will pass their blood along.