Your hands have grown,so I can’t compare you to the rain.Now I count each time you reachfor mine, each time you appearlike a spectre at my side of the bed.Monday morning, and only worrieshugged me in this weekend’s sleeps.I fear this is the end--After all, a kiss can’t stopa thunderstorm’s eye from cycling.
Sigh. Number 9 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans!
Wonderful opening especially here-- and that line about being hugged by worries in bed especially palpable. Thanks, Marian-- you are doing a great job on your month. K.
ReplyDeleteThis is just plain beautiful, Marian. I love the allusion to 'somewhere i have never travelled' in your opening line and by the end of the poem, I wanted to give it a hug... thank heavens for the different phases of parenting, but it is hard to let each one go, especially if one notices it going.
ReplyDeletefine close. makes me think of my growing sons. ~
ReplyDeleteWow, awesome write; filed to "Wish i had written that"
ReplyDeleteHave a nice Tuesday
much love...
Nice read, Marian. Thank you. I hadn't decided who the "you" would be here, I was thinking a lover where love has grown very cool. The ominous snippet here, "appear like a spectre" said surely a child wouldn't be threatening to a parent in one of your poems.
ReplyDelete..
Thank you for reading my post and for leaving your nice comment. This morning I smoothed things up and told of Adi being a therapy dog and BP now in college. I posted that picture to be in sync with your prompt although my poem is lacking. (I didn't get to sleep until the Lucy life program was finished. I 'loved Lucy'.)
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Kids! My daughter :) No cooling of love, just growing up and sleeping in, instead of coming down to snuggle with mama.
DeleteI didn't think of spectre as necessarily threatening, just ghost-like... maybe should consider re-working that line if this reads as scary. Thank you for that Jim!
this is so true and lovely...a kiss can't stop a thunderstorm from cycling..
ReplyDeletegracias
Wow, Marian... such intensity. Love the progression... the way in which distance starts to grown between speaker and subject... and the explosion in the end. For even if we don't see it, we know it's coming.
ReplyDeleteLovely...the first two lines are so beautiful and the last line just underlines the emotion in the poem.
ReplyDeleteIn my first marriage I watched a mother's and daughter's lovehate dance as adolescence lowered the boom of adulthood between them. Complicated, vicious, earnest, of an order of intimacy I will never approach. Like watching the moon pull free of the Pacific Ocean. Anyway, "your hands have grown, / so I can't compare you to the rain" nails the loving sorrow. Amen.
ReplyDeleteToo hard to even think about.
DeleteOh it is heartrending how quickly they grow...........beautiful, Marian.
ReplyDeleteNow I count each time you reach
ReplyDeletefor mine, each time you appear
like a spectre at my side of the bed
They grew up fast. In no time they would like to be on their own, physically separated. They preferred friends to parents and we parents dreaded it when it happened. Insightful read Marian!
Hank
Beautiful...How quickly they grow.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and haunting! I want my nest filled again~
ReplyDeleteI love it all, and your closing analogy is very telling.
ReplyDelete