Rising earlierthan strictly necessaryto mediate a disputethat’s brought hot tears,
Trying for a laughthrough sleep-gunked eyes,amazed that it works,aware that it won’t always.
Rubbing oil on your eyelids,wishing to anointwith the strength of tensof thousands of women,
Pulling you close,blinking back my own tearsagainst the inevitabilityof your broken heart.
Kerry's prompt to the Real Toads (for poem seven of thirty in April!) asked us to respond to a quote from William Wordsworth. I chose this one:
The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless unremembered acts of kindness and love.
That last verse was specially good Marian ~
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday ~
Some how I knew this was the quote you would choose... Not everyone knows how to thank the good men, show appreciation of their kindnesses and loving hearts, but you do.
ReplyDeleteI so relate to those feelings of the inevitability of pain happening to those we love. Beautifully written, Marian.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done. I liked that quote from WW as well and you applied it very well.
ReplyDeletethat last stanza is a lesson for all involved in healing and caring
ReplyDeleteAs said above, the last stanza is splendid and the whole poem is compassionate. Very nice.
ReplyDeleteIt's the little things that count. :)
ReplyDeleteI love these lines:
ReplyDelete"Pulling you close,
blinking back my own tears
against the inevitability
of your broken heart"
WW would approve ;D
I liked this quote also--it's so true, and so important, and so few people realize it--a parent is what I get here, and whose acts of kindness go as unnoticed, I wonder? Sharply observed, softly written.
ReplyDeleteI love the anecdote, the gunked eyes, the action/acknowledgement of the last verse.
ReplyDeleteVery poignant poem, Marian.
ReplyDeleteWhat wouldn't we do to save loved ones from pain? It's a harsh awakening (no reference to your poem intended, it just came out that way) when we realize we can't save them their pain. All we can do is share some of our own experience to teach them pain passes.
ReplyDeleteK
PS— I am not an advocate of the no-pain-no-gain theory, however. I would still wish beloved youngsters to gain without pain. Foolish of me, fatuous even. Sigh.
I agree with Wordsworth. And I relate to the moments of kindness you describe. Time with overs and children, families and friends, these tender moments define one's life.
ReplyDeleteThis is intensely emotional and the last two stanzas bring the tightness of tears to my own throat...well told, Marian. :)
ReplyDeleteThat is a very loving act...those small acts of kindness all add up.
ReplyDeleteWhat they said.
ReplyDeleteSeriously, this was a lovely way to employ the Wordsworth... words! It reminds me of times when Riley would have a bad dream (she was an "only," so no early morning disputes) and I do remember that gunky stuff! It's little details like that which make this whole poem and act of kindness to your readers. Peace, Amy
Beautiful- intensely emotional but not maudlin. Very finely worded indeed.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous, full of feeling.
ReplyDeleteawww, i'm so glad you liked this one, friends. heart!
ReplyDeleteSuch a fitting poem on my daughter's birthday. Made me sad!!!
ReplyDeleteawwwww and i KNOW. sigh!
DeleteOh the time of broken hearts..they come and we can't stop them. I love the second stanza. I wish for that anointing.
ReplyDeletei do, too, Susie. xo
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