Saturday, July 7, 2012

Day's End

Some morning too soon my son will not rise;
Tears and pain will well in those green eyes.
What to do, what to say when asked
Why legs and arms no longer obey?
Will still so strong but the flesh weak;
Look to the horizon for the answers you seek.
Tendons, ligaments, muscle and their nerves will all shrivel
Like the withered roots of a plant parched by drought.
Faith and prayer metamorph as drivel
When the certainties of life are substituted for doubt.
Mother, nurture and tend this delicate soul;
It's the most and least you can do
In this situation so out of control.
The stares get easier to transcend 
While the stairs grow more difficult to ascend.
And still the last sunset creeps towards day's end.


  1. Dear Andrea,
    There is life, maybe not like urs & mine. But life non the less. Cherish it. Enjoy it 2gether. Make the most of what he has. He may not climb stairs but can he sing? Focus on what U both have. Don't feel sorry for him. He doesn't need pity. Give him strength for each moment. Be his Muscles. I was Patrick's. He taught me how to be a mom. He had no ability left to walk but he walked further than I did. He told me of all the places he was walking through. I walk with U Andrea.

  2. Oh I know M. I just write down the darker thoughts and feelings so
    that I can focus on the life we have. Get it out and then move on to
    the better stuff. A writer friend says I am keening.
    I know what you mean about these kids teaching us to be moms.
    Thanks for walking beside me M.

  3. Dear Andrea,

    Thank you for this. Over here in my world, it is pure generosity, the moreso for its painful source in an unfathomable wound.

    Faith and prayer metamorph as drivel
    When the certainties of life are substituted for doubt.

    True, but what is this poem but faith and prayer? And how unfathomably generous of you to spare me the drivel and give it to me straight.

    I am biking to Montreal and will hold the glory of the day against your generous reminder that this playground can be a beautiful nightmare.

    Thank you for your poetry and friendship,

    John O.

  4. Dear John O.,

    The beauty outweighs the nightmare every time.
    Have a good and safe ride.


  5. Thank you Andrea for sharing your thoughts and feelings.

    Life and death are unbearably each other's flipsides and a mother bears them both together. Oh but don't we wish we could add: "with equanimity". But we cannot! That wouldn't be much of a mother.

    What tortured bliss...


  7. Thank you.