Because we all want to write more poems.
broken
we both get up late, in foul moods:
mine, adult-sized, full of worries,
with your Dad out sick from work, sleeping
wrapped up in a blanket on the couch;
yours, child-sized, your usual anxieties
magnified by my rushing, barking orders
instead of making motherly requests
as you refuse to eat the eggs I made
because they don't taste like the ones
Dad makes, because they're too
brown, or not brown enough
and the yogurt isn't the right kind
and the toast is toast and not bread
and you wanted cereal anyway
and breakfast comes with a side of tears
because I'm not talking to you nicely
but there isn't time for that,
five minutes late already
at the front door
I show you the new shoes
that I bought for you last night on sale
for the running club you started
yesterday; you say they fit
perfect
out the door
hustle to school
arguing all the way
about who got up late
and whose fault it all is
and how it all makes us feel
finally
I deliver you, with just a quick
hug and kiss,
to your classroom
where your teacher greets you --
asks if you were just running late?
I say yes, sheepishly
you take your desk, and as I walk away
your teacher follows me
out the door, calls my name
I think: oh, oh, a reminder, don't be late
but she tells me instead
that a boy who goes
to another school in town
has died, some of the kids in your class
were his family, his friends,
and that you will hear about it,
and that you will tell me about this
and that we might have to talk about loss
and all the way home
I want to remake our morning
with softness and quiet
with understanding, even a little joy
where we can find it
and home again,
tears like your tears
finally come to my eyes
for your heart, gentle heart
that will so soon break
- Jennifer Dixey's Shared Poems
- Log in or register to post comments
Comments
Neil McKay
January 12, 2012
Permalink
I'm so sorry Jennifer. I
I'm so sorry Jennifer. I heard about this young boy. No words can make it better.
Jennifer Dixey
January 13, 2012
Permalink
Thanks
Thank you. I actually didn't get to spend much time talking to my son today after all that because of other family obligations, so I don't know how much he knows yet. It's going to be hard on all of them.
Benjamin Gorman
January 12, 2012
Permalink
boy
Did you know him, his family? What a blow.
But don't sweat the small stuff (it's all small stuff).
Jennifer Dixey
January 13, 2012
Permalink
Thanks, Ben
I'm not sure if I'd met him or not. His face certainly looked familiar when I saw the photo online in the paper. It is a very sad situation. As for all the aggravation of this morning - it all melted away as soon as I heard that news. It's all small stuff, and it's all precious, somehow.