May 9th
The day is gone - another one.
I am trying to remember
a birthday.
The one when I led you by the hand
through a jungle of weeds
and you clung to me,
your face a question.
All's well, I said,
- and held you close.
But all the time I was scared for you.
I lay awake
without reason
imagining
every fast flowing river,
every high tree.
It took less in the end
- and more.
All's well, I say now,
everything's fine.
In case you hear.
I am trying to remember
a birthday.
The one when I led you by the hand
through a jungle of weeds
and you clung to me,
your face a question.
All's well, I said,
- and held you close.
But all the time I was scared for you.
I lay awake
without reason
imagining
every fast flowing river,
every high tree.
It took less in the end
- and more.
All's well, I say now,
everything's fine.
In case you hear.
posted by Clare Dudman at 8:38 pm
11 Comments:
This is a useless poem
Yes, I know - but I don't care.
why did you write it then?
Because I wanted to mark the day.
Why are we talking here?
Because it's quiet and no one can hear.
I hear. And for each of us who hears, so does he.
Hear here.
Heh.
I know ... thinking of you. (It's the day after ABM's and my wedding anniversary.) And it's a beautiful poem. The pain of the missing and the gap left, never leaves us does it?
A beautiful poem and tribute, Clare. Your words will be remembered by many, perhaps more than you know.
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