A poem from Writers Almanac, for the mothers I've come to know in this weird, wild community! And the mother I've known a long time, Beth, who introduced me to Writers Almanac. This poem makes me want to write a poem like it for each of my children.
Poem: "My Son" by Susan Cataldo, from drenched: selected poems of Susan Cataldo 1979-1999. © Telephone Books. Reprinted with permission.
My Son
I love this messy room you live in
The plants you care for
The nickels & dimes & pennies you pile
Up on your desk like no-good money
The Amazing Spiderman poster on the wall
Tapes paint comic books biographies
Of all you favorite presidents
A picture of the Lincoln Memorial
On the wall facing your bed
An eleven year old dusty red TV
Daphne turning into a tree
Two autographed photographs of
Leonard Nimoy. Dracula.
A cross made of branches
Held together by a rubber band
You love daisies
& keep them alive until
Every bud has blossomed
You are interested in
What everyone is doing
You think of new things for them
To do you make them heroes
In your fantastic head
You look strong & handsome
But you don't see that
You want to defend helpless people
You want to know why there aren't
Really super heroes
You ask the same questions
I ask myself & can't answer
You don't understand jokes
You think they hurt
You are constantly dodging
Bullets & dreaming up new
Ways to defend yourself
You are stubborn to a fault
A fortress of mind & chest
Eyes never more mirrored
The soul than your
You deny love
You want to be "different"
You don't want to feel
How much you love this life
6 comments:
Oh, Theresa, I simply adore this, and the artwork is incredible. I see so much of my daughter in this, and the last few lines describe her so well it's scary. Thank you for this.
That was the first thing I read this morning, but it was much nicer to visit here and see it attached to real moms! Thank you, Theresa
This is a great piece. I love Writers Almanac too!
~Rosemarie
Oh, Theresa, how perfect a poem. I see pieces of my each of my sons as I read through the lines. Messy room - hah! I'm not even sure what is in my son's room these days - I daren't go in! I do know that he has used masking tape to write a pacifist message on his ceiling, though.
As I continue to struggle to let go, I see the poignancy in this poem. My older son is off and away and I am having such a hard time accepting it. My younger son's college schedule is such that he and I will be like Cox and Box - one in while the other is out for the entire semester. This passage from dependency on mothers to independence is in the nature of things, but still there is the stronge urge to hold on, and keep them in their messy rooms.
Thank you for this loving dedication.
Vicky
My Incentive http://www.livejournal.com/users/vxv789/
Be still my heart. That was such a powerfully simple and real poem. Thanks so much.
My older son, when he was growing up, and even when he was in high school, would always announce when he went upstairs, I'm taking my shower now. It was sort of a joke until I realized he was saying, good night, I love you, everything is over for today and ok.
I know what you mean about wanting to write a poem about each child.
And I think about the journey that we take, as parents. Once, that person was us. Now, that person is not us. That "math" is a tough journey. I'm still ouching!
Love to all,
Beth
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