Untitled Poem circa 2006

It's day 10 of 40 and I'm already searching through my files of old writing, just to have something to post. Oh, I'm full of ideas, but why these ideas can't inspire me in the middle of the afternoon instead of 9 p.m. at night I have no idea.

I found this in one of my old cyber-folders and orginally posted this back in 2008. Since I have a few new readers I'm posting it again, but I promise this will be the last time. It was written when I was teaching English and my husband was in school full-time. It's a pretty good glimpse at how hectic my life was during that life chapter. One of the things I think unites everyone (and we fail to share) is how difficult or trying certain stretches of our life can be. Everyone is always so careful to paint with pretty colors, we fail to see that sometimes when the canvas is turned upside down and all those colors run together that you get a masterpiece. My neighbor across the street has a painting her mother did hanging in her downstairs room that reminded me of just that: perfection and beauty in the midst of the motion. My life never seems to be within the lines. My colors are always running. God probably knew I'd get bored if it were any other way.

So here it is. It's not particularly scholarly. It won't win me the title of Poet Laureate. But it's a glimpse of a time. Maybe I should follow this up (in a few blogs) with a poem that describes me during this chapter of my life...hmmm...chalk another idea up for the remaining 30 blogs. And that poem will be new and fresh, not re-purposed like this one.

Untitled

There are times I feel like a child

Small, helpless, and not in control of anything.

I’m not really a mother who’s supposed to know all the answers,

Or a wife who puts her dreams aside

So her husband can follow his.

I’m the little girl who’s scared to stay alone

Waking when the house settles to check windows and doors.

I’m naive to the horrors that plague our world, insulated by illusion

Not comprehending the cruelty I witness

Everyday.

In school, at work.

My now life takes over again

Bill payer, lunch maker, gift buyer, laundry doer, toilet cleaner

And

The only word my children know

When they are upset. Or need something.

Or simply want to whine.

I am not the person I’d dreamed I’d be.

Not the always patient parent you see on sit-coms,

Not the laid-back-go-with-the-flow type.

I am not as organized or on top of things as I had hoped.

I am not the cookie baker or happy memory maker I always imagined.

In fact,

I am selfish and wonder why someone cannot take care of me

At least sometimes.

Every now and then I’d like to be pampered. and soothed. and worried about.

Real life once more;

Grocery shopper, floor washer, carpet vacuumer, party planner and as always

Child-watcher-mother-wife.

And those are just my chores tonight.

Perhaps someday it will be my turn

To chase dreams, to become the person I’d hoped.

My turn to be the

Story writer, poem creator, soul inspirer, life lesson teacher, spiritual director, smile bringer…

Or maybe

In the eyes of my children

I am all those things now.