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That Blissful Child

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 21, 2018

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Submitted: January 21, 2018

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When your three-year-old son falls asleep in your arms, you want to rock him all night long. 

Sing a ballad of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star until day breaks. 

Until your heart glows. 

But your brain screams, “I’m tired.” 

It’s been a terribly, long day.

Lots of tantrums.

A wet pig you calm with such patience. 

So you lay your precious baby in his bed. 

Kiss his cheek. 

Whisper, “Good-night, my darling.”

Then you creep out his door. 

Think all you must do.

Dishes in the sink, legos and hot wheels strewn here and there.

Crumbs on the carpet.

Writing to complete.

Deadlines to meet.

Food stuck in your hair. 

You don’t care.

Life is so fragile, that blissful child. 

A dream gone by,

A blink of an eye.

No man can predict. 

Death, too sudden, too bitter. 

Vicious in your veins.

Laying waste in its trail.

Hearts shattered in two.

Mouths wailing your name.

The bells of heaven ringing,

When you least expect.  

When your plans can’t change.

When the price of leaving hurts more than your suffering. 

Unfinished paths you wished for.

You prepared for.

You paid for. 

Yet you say, “It’s okay. Better places need me more.”

Meet me tomorrow,

The day after perhaps.

Hug me then, my dear. 

Your goodbye breathed from lips

Hit my ears.

Your son I watch

Running in the meadow.

His sweet face, a smile, dandelions he blows

You must know that. 

You’re never alone

I tread beside you.

Waves on our heels

Footprints crushed in the sand

Seagulls cawing above,

Our eyes on the ocean.

Hold my fingers a little longer, my dear and you will see,

Brilliant colors, oranges and reds, ablaze in the sky.

A sunset for me.

A sign for you.

Tears can’t change my fate. 

Or raise me from the grave. 

Stop your echoes from the past, they drag you down.

Look up instead. 

Your future awaits.  

Waste no time. 

The clock chimes in the distance

Dings through the sky 

Hazy, fog rolls over those blue depths.

Take up your staff.

Brave that dangerous world.

Quickly.

Race away. 

Toes dart.

Water splashes.

Desires wait.

Your greatest goals.

Loves of your life.

Reach them.

Lest that blissful child vanish come morning.

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Joy Shaw. All rights reserved.

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