I’m still writing goodbye poems for a personal project about
different ways of looking at children (mine, others, and grandchildren, too)
growing up. I’ve chosen to do a series
of poems at different stages in children’s lives, essentially saying goodbye
each time. I want to put them together
in a book with pictures at the particular stage I am describing in the
poem. I love telling stories through
poetry, and I love poems of goodbye, so I thought this would be a good way to
combine both passions. Someday I hope to
put it all together in a book for my family.
Here is my most recent one, about
my grandson Carter.
(7)
From fields
of childhood,
hop the
fence
and then
you will be there,
middle
school,
a world of
your own.
Always
summer there,
with slamming
lockers
and clanging
bells,
assembly
line lunches where
I hope that
most of the food
won’t kill
you, at least on the days
before
tests,
for teachers
on whom you must depend
on their
own hope for tomorrow.
And for friends,
that surround with
crazy words
and shoulder slams,
heys for the mornings.
Gather the
seeds for another day,
for this
new world.
Your roots
are deep.
Now at
eleven, leafy growth
amazes.
But as you
grow you’ll learn to hate
the wicked
flowers,
to stomp
the growth of cruelty
when
needed.
You’ll
choose roses.
I miss the
boy who played
with Fisher
Price adventure people,
and
Matchbox cars,
fighting
the bad,
righting
the wrongs.
Your
adventures today
are not
plastic, but real.
If I could,
I would keep
you safe,
but
the fence
waits.
You’ll find
more seeds in
your pants
pockets.
Ah, yes:
ReplyDelete"If I could, I would keep
you safe, but
the fence waits."
Wistful sigh. (I am sending one to middle school this year myself.)
I love your words "wistful sigh" Tabatha. That's how I feel, too. Best wishes!
DeleteSo much to love here... "You'll choose roses" and "Your adventures today/are not plastic, but real" speak to me today. Thank you, Linda, for sharing this wonderful project.
ReplyDeleteThanks Irene. It's been a good project to have along the way, & I respond when inspired by a date, a photo, & ? It's a thread that is interesting to me in my life right now.
DeleteOne of my favorites from the project! Love all the sensory detail, the wistful reflections as your son leaps that first fence to leave bits of childhood behind. Wonderful pic, too, love those green goggles :).
ReplyDeleteThank you Jama. Just an FYI-it is my grandson, not my son. And as Tabatha wrote, too, 'wistful' is the word when time moves us along.
DeleteYes, I meant grandson. Too early in the morning . . . :)
DeleteThanks for sharing, Linda. I LOVE that last line - every child heading to middle school needs the hidden belief that someone else believes in them, and that they can believe in themselves - those seeds in the pants pocket yet to bloom into something wonderful!
ReplyDeleteYou are right, Robyn. I taught the middle school students for a along while, & it's important to have that permission/ability/inspiration to bloom. Now it's what I hope for all the different ages I work with, but especially this time for my grandson. Thanks.
DeleteThat little boy he was will still be there in the man he becomes. You and his parents taught him well!
ReplyDeleteYes, I know. And that's a good thing. Thanks, Mary Lee.
DeleteGAH! Linda, you caught me off guard and now I'm all weepy. These past few days I've already been wistful about my two-year-olds growing too fast, and your lovely poem just brought it home even more. Sniff. What a wonderful collection you are putting together.
ReplyDeleteThank you Renee. Actually, my daughter & I have also been talking about her daughters growing up so quickly (3 & 1 already). We know how you feel.
DeleteI have loved every poem you've shared from this project, Linda. Yes, I feel that wistfulness for my middle school grandson, too. Thanks for this.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteI'm sending one to middle school next year... and your poem made me tear up thinking about it. He's ready. I'm not sure I am.
ReplyDeleteAnd we wouldn't want it any other way, would we? But still it's not easy. Thanks Katya!
DeleteHi, Linda. That "hop the fence" really gets me. We so want to jump over to the other side of adulthood, but we leave so much behind once we make that leap.
ReplyDeleteOh Linda, my heart is filled as I read this poem to your grandson. Such knowing and gentleness and quiet aches all wrapped around those seeds in his pockets that would make flowers bloom and make him choose roses each time. Such a treasure, these words.
ReplyDelete