First Grief

First Grief

Last night, my daughter—
Mine by right of love and law,
But not by birth—
Cried for her "other mother."

Accountable
And duly baptized she may be,
But eight is young . . .
For grown-up grief,
The first I cannot mend
With Bandaids,
Easy words,
Or promises.

I cannot tell her yet
How often I have also cried
Sometimes at night
To one whose memory
My birth erased;
Who let me go
To other parents
Who could train and shape the soul
She had prepared,
Then hid her face from me.

-Margaret Munk
(found here)