The Poetry Marathon

What of the child?

 

HOUR 5

WHAT OF THE CHILD?

My colleague happily announced

her pregnancy.

Her doctor advised a genetic test

for high probability,

of chromosomal aberration.

She proudly told us,

she didn’t need one.

She was ready.

Everyone applauded.

She was brave, she was virtuous.

Not one had a handicapped child.

She drank it all in,

yes she was all of that,

and more.

And I asked,

what of the child?

A lifetime of disability,

of frustration, of sorrow, of heartbreak.

Striving to be like their siblings,

their peers,

and falling short.

Of never being independent,

told what to do, where to go.

To never drive, go to a prom,

to be a wife,

and a mother.

 

Slowly the siblings leave,

and then permanently the parents.

The child turns old, lonely in a group home,

and dies among strangers.

 

I know, I have seen firsthand.

We have a Downs Syndrome child.

and dread her future,

when we are gone.

Maybe

It takes faith to believe that hope will not disappoint.
To do a butterfly release in the pit of your stomach
To entertain the idea that
this time
Love could choose you.
To believe that you are now a main character
in a story that you’ve never been written into.
That this time it’s your turn.
That what you long for will be made manifest.

Hoping isn’t much and is easy for some, but not for you.
For you, it is everything that you need
to keep getting up in the morning, and
when you lost it, you convinced yourself that gray was the true color of the world.
And it has been easier to long for nothing
than to contend with the despair of disappointment
Over and over again.
It has been easier to create a new projection for the future
than to keep trusting with no signs.
Wanting has made you weary
and resigned.

But it seems like time to crack open what has been calloused.
To rewound yourself
if for no other reason than to heal correctly.
Develop a more pliable wound this time
And maybe
Just maybe
have
what you have silently desired for so long.

Prompt #8

It’s hard to tell when the sky

turns from night to predawn.

 

The air changes first

smelling of wet earth and

hope,

 

the growing sense of urgency —

only moments left to

share secrets, to

 

be anonymous, to

imagine yourself alone

in the bed

 

and feel that incredible sadness

without the rest of the world

ever knowing.

Daylight

Hour 8

Daylight

(Music by Max Richter-On the Nature of Daylight)

 

Dawn comes slowly, steadily.

Feel the sun’s rumbling intensity.

Hear the morning birds.

Smell the asphalt, dirt, flowers beginning to warm.

Ominous or hopeful.

Sheds light on events in recent darkness.

Disasters illuminated.

Newborns see their first day.

 

Sue Storts

09/02/2023

 

 

Prompt 8: this fire

if i hold a light to this fire,

will the ones who keep me safe see me here,

by this fire light?

 

I breathe into the light of all the Star people,

living in the medicine that they love me, too.

 

if i hold a light to this fire,

will my fire be there, too?

(c) r. l. elke

 

 

Soulful Strings

“Soulful Strings”

 

stings finely tuned

he starts to glide his bow

 

the sound hollow, yet

full of vibrato

 

calling forth, the light of day

she awakens

 

the sweet sound

strumming her along

 

warming the dawn

smoothly

 

saturating the air

softly soothing

the stratosphere

 

a soulful ballad

rich and enigmatic

 

The Flame to Your Stars – Hour Eight

The Flame to Your Stars

 

Out in the desert, a sky filled with stars
I sit in the darkness, a fire burns afar
I shine light upon it and realize the view
The stars, the flame, the light – all for you
I think back to the night that we met long ago
A night, rather similar, beneath moonlit glow
Where oft nervous talking gave way to a kiss
Which led to a life that I now truly miss
That evening, its moonlight, its flame and its stars
Came up in our memories, a night truly ours
A whole life before us, little we knew then
Now left but in memory of what might have been
That night you were with me
In ways, you are still
But, residing in Heaven
Twinkling down as God’s will
O’er that spot oh so special
So sacred and ours
Where I feel you with me, my flame to your stars

Photo credit: https://unsplash.com/@tianhao_wang

Prompt 8 – The River’s Way

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

(Not very musical, so I chose a Japanese Mondo Poem

 

Where does the river find its way,

Meandering through night and day,

Reflecting skies in tranquil blue,

Its course determined, strong and true.

 

In mountain’s heart, its source is found,

From melting snow on sacred ground,

Through valleys deep and forests grand,

The river flows, a life’s demand.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

prompt 8

8

Joint custody

joint custody 2

it’s been long enough. I watch your chair for unauthorized activity, wait for the light to change, for the wall to dissolve in hot flowers, for the wind to weave another day of movement, laundry comes out of the dryer dirtier than it went in and I will make my own holidays. the funeral baked meats and someone’s marriage table

night crawls out of the window and over the floor. you blink at me again from under the moving grasses, from the place where the curtains hid in burning leaves and it’s been long enough. there is a place here I don’t fit, and I am holding the match

from Max Richter-On The Nature Of Daylight (entropy)

Violin #2023poetrymarathon #prompthour8

It’s 2 am and the street lights

are not working again.

Darkness sweeps the road outside

The familiar looking strange.

The curve of the bow, plucking music

from my soul. An aged soul

that wanders in and out of rooms

Listening to the soft breaths, the sighs

Of dreams. I want to hold on to

This weightlessness, the easy way I hold

Myself, silently sneaking through doors

Of my mind, and forget that sometimes,

I do not care to live any more.