Monday, April 16, 2012

After the Clamor

By the end of the day
the sound has mounted to a Clamor

Its two big hands clapping around us
noises so much and so many so
four walls are pathetic protection

On occasion it's the blast of lawnmowers or
the tinkle of the bottles in a grocery cart or
the yelling that results in cop lights or
the angry flash of the dick trucks or
the dog against the mailman or
the blast of the heat vents or
the dadumm of hip hop or
the cars that park here,
bring some love, then
stop coming

But whatever it is

when it is over

when the clapper has done its clapping
and all that clamor has died clean away

there is just my
two arms around you, and
four eyes, staring into the space that is

now so quiet


This is the reminder that no matter what the situations i put myself in, whatever calamities befall me, i am mandated to both gain and give protection to this wonderful child in my life. Where would i be after all these little tragedies of the day, were it not for her?


Jack said...

The beauty of really, truly caring for a child is the warmth you carry into old age, knowing that every single thing you did, no matter how insignificant it seemed at the time, no matter who noticed, was absolutely vital.

iris said...

nice poem

silvermorgon said...
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nature cures said...

Great poem! Im gonna print this and put it on frame so I can hang on my wall to remind me everyday of how my mama care and love me!!!

Jack said...

Hi, Nicole. Truly hope this finds you well. Just dropping a quick note to let you know that I made you my Featured Site of the Week at Hope it brings you a few extra visitors, and some good conversation.

All the best, always!
- Jack

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