I used to write poetry. It was, admittedly, quite awful poetry, but I was reminded of it when I saw this by Christine. And then, sitting and holding Charlie (not coincidentally), the following was just . . . there. In my head. And now it's here.
Holding
Holding a baby
Sticky from entry
Holding a boy
Crying in fear
Holding and swinging
Holding and singing
Holding and walking
Holding and rocking
Holding a boy
Screaming and kicking
Holding a baby
At 2 a.m., 3 a.m., 4 a.m.
Exhausted holding
Desperate holding
Coaxing holding
Quiet holding
A boy holding tight
to my legs for safety
A baby holding my finger
The instinctive grip of survival
Holding until they let go
And then I will be left
Holding only the memories
Of holding
6 comments:
NICE !
I see MANY more poems being penned before they actually fly away.
Beth
Great poem. It is so true, and the last brought tears to my eyes. Keep writing!
That's an 'enjoy it while it lasts' sort of a thing. Good advice and nicely done.
how true ....
Kinda makes me sad, but it shouldn't. I remember the hiaku poems you used to write - never could understand that whole concept. Obviously, you're talented at both ( I'm assuming this post wasn't a hiaku). Anyway, love to read everything you write. Keep it up!
thoughtful and lovely. Save it for the boys to see when they are older--perhaps when they have their own little ones.
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