PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I once had this idyllic picture of children…in school…learning with their mates

or outside playing together…running, jumping, laughing…riding on roller skates.

But that idyllic picture has changed…it’s not so idyllic anymore….

as we’re faced with another school shooting…and parts of the world at war.

In the midst of war…death comes quickly…lives are lost…hearts are broken

In the instant death arrives…there’s no time to think…no words are spoken.

I wonder in the moment the bomb explodes…dropped from high above

If the last thought of those who died…were of those in life they love.

In the midst of a school shooting…living out their most horrible fears

students of all ages take out their phones…and fighting back their tears

they call their parents and loved ones…”Dad, Mom…there’s something I want to say. 

I just want you to know I love you…if I happen to die today”.

In Israel, in Gaza, in Ukraine, on our streets…wherever the fires of hatred flame

when it comes to the last words on our lips…all our messages are the same.

We want those we love to know we love them…one more time before we die…

so we repeat to them the words they said to us…

the moment we opened our eyes.

If we fear we’re going to die…and those we love and who love us can’t be near…

we want the words ‘I love you”…to be the last words from us…they hear.

Leaving us to mourn a world that callously drops bullets and bombs on us from above.

A world that allows the ruthless killing of the children we claim to love.

And to pray for the day love will prevail…and no more children will suffer the fate

of dying beneath their school desk…or while outside…wearing roller skates.

Today’s blessing is an old reminder for parents

That every now and deserves to be brought back out:

While you we trying to teach our children (and grandchildren) about life

without trying, they are teaching us what life is all about.

 She is 15 months old…this beautiful little squirt

she likes nothing more than walking barefoot everywhere

and playing in the dirt.

In fact she loves dirt so much…(her parents tell us with a moan)

they believe she thinks dirt is a food group all its own.

I love to watch her play…in her world both simple and complex

because you never know exactly where her feet will take her next.

While watching the purity and innocence in one so young and new

I’m reminded of the things I did as a child…that I can no longer do.

How I walked barefoot everywhere when I was just a little squirt

How, while playing outside, I also ate my share of dirt.

How I could laugh at noises…or something silly my parents said

How I could start singing and dancing

listening only the music in my head.

How I loved to run and run and run…loved finger paints and art

How in the store I liked nothing better than riding in the grocery cart.

How I would point and grunt and gesture before I had the power of speech

and I don’t remember but my parents have pictures…

of me running naked on the beach.

Of course I’m too old and I’d get arrested if today I ran naked on the beach

and I no longer need to point and grunt and gesture since I developed speech.

With bad knees I can’t run anymore…finger painting for me is a lost art

and I’m much too big for Deborah to push me in the grocery cart.

My parents are no longer alive so I can’t laugh at the silly things they say

HOWEVER… I can still dance and sing to the music in my head a little every day.

And I’m please to say now in my 70’s 

some days I still feel like that little squirt…

and even though I’ve lost my taste for it…

I still love playing in the dirt.

Today’s blessing comes from the author L. R. Knost

who, with the wisdom and knowledge she brings

reminds us as human beings and parents 

of two very important things:

She teaches us that it is not our job

to make our children tough enough to face

a world that is heartless and cruel

(Certainly this should be taught every day in every school)

It’s our job to raise children who will make their world

a little less heartless and cruel.

And she reminds us wherever children are murdered  

whether in Israel, 

Palestine, 

Armenia, 

Syria 

Ukraine,

 America

or Algiers…

every father screams the same screams

and every mother cries the same tears.

Most of my morning walks begin in silence…it’s just me and thoughts I turn into words.

but for a week, now, when I reach a particular tree I’m greeted by the song of a mockingbird.

Her song, which I like to think she’s singing just for me, is melodious and sweet…

and as I pass she flies in front of me and continues singing from a tree across the street.

So…for about a week every morning as I leisurely walk along…

I’ve stopped between these two trees so I can listen to her song.

As I listen to one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard

I think of how we human parents are similar to the parents of the mockingbird.

How we were there when our children were born (or hatched) to hear their initial cries…

How we knew them before they discovered how to sing…before they leaned to fly.

I wonder…do we each hold on to images…memories to which we cling…

of times before our children learned to fly…before they learned to sing?

And every day do we both feel proud we played a part in the songs our children sing…

that we were there to encourage them…when it came time to spread their wings? 

I wonder…do mockingbird parents get old and gray…

If they cold turn their thoughts into words…

would they be able to express how they feel when their children visit

and bring grand baby birds?

Perhaps one morning as I watch this mockingbird spread her wings…

I’ll have the chance to meet her parents…and as we pause and listen to their child sing.

we’ll share stories and memories of moments…that have long ago gone by

of a time before our children learned to sing…

before they learned to fly.

 Today I’m thankful for children

and for John F. Kennedy..

Who said:

Children are the messages we send

to a time we will not see.

Kayla, our neighbor, called to say she and her two little ones 

were going to pick blueberries and would we like to pick too…

Which is how we found ourselves that morning among the berries painted blue.

There among the blueberries…we hadn’t walk in very far 

when we suddenly remembered what it felt like 

to be as young as Ollie and Abby are

There among the blueberries…watching Abby’s face brighten into a smile…

and Ollie’s eyes widen as he was running wild

we wondered if…among the blueberries…everybody is a child.

It happens quite unexpectedly…I can’t say exactly when… 

as our attention flits form the blueberries

to the birds, to the bees, to the cows…then back to blueberries again.

There among the blueberries…just like all children do

while dropping blueberries into our bucket…we stopped to eat a few.

There among the blueberries, (I wonder is it just a blueberry thing?)

We found ourselves smiling, laughing, jumping…

and every now and then we’d sing! 

Yes, there among the blueberries it was hard to tell us all apart…

because, there among the blueberries…we are all children at heart.

So Kayla, Ollie and Abby as we fill our mouths with blueberries

we’d like to take a moment to thank the three of you….

for all the wonders you helped us discover that morning

among the berries painted blue.

 The other night at work I had mellow ’60’s music playing in the store

when a couple carrying their young son entered through the door.

Guessing someone’s age the more I age is harder and harder for me

but by the way he toddled through the store I’d say he was two or maybe three.

When he toddled up to the speaker where the music was playing

he stopped…he listened and when he finally felt the beat….

faster than you can say Richie Havens…he began to move his feet.

He toddle-danced left…he toddle-danced right then he began to bounce up and down

and the more the music moved him…he started spinning round and round.

But a toddler can only spin so much…three times…maybe four…

before dizziness and gravity directed him to the floor.

He’d sit there for a moment staring…smiling at me…and then

moved once more by the music…he’d begin to dance again.

It was fun to watch this little boy move to the beat and toddle-dance to the rhythm…

and fun to watch all the customers who couldn’t walk by 

without stopping to toddle-dance with him.

If you don’t think music is universal…that it can’t bring people together…

that it doesn’t our world enhance…

I invite you into our bookstore where you can listen to the music

and where, if you’re lucky, you can watch toddlers and people dance.

Oh yea!  As Boe the owner of the bookstore likes to remind me…

I also have a job to do…

So while you’re listening to the music…

and watching toddlers and people dance…

It’d be great if…you would buy a book or two.

The older I grow…the longer I’m on this spot 

I think our understanding about guardian angels needs to be re-thought.

We tend to think of our guardian angels as sprits who, without making a fuss,

are always somewhere nearby…protecting…looking after us.

What if…with the birth every child parents have happily awaited…

from inside the mother’s womb…an angel is created?

What if…looking at our children sleeping and calling them ‘little angels’ is not just hyperbole?

What if angels are exactly who our children were created on Earth to be?

Which would make us, as parents, guardians of our angels…

Which also means our work is never done…

our job:  to protect and watch over our little angels…each and every one.

And what if our guardianship is meant…not just for those to whom we’ve given birth?

What if our guardianship extends across the world…to all the little angels on the Earth.

As I say…the longer I’m alive…the clearer is my view…

We all begin life as little angels…only to become guardians of angels too. 

If that’s the case…if we’re all created to be guardians of angels…

Then…please…tell me how…

There can be angels starving in our streets and dying in wars…

Surely these are things no guardians of angels should allow.

If we’re ever going to find a solution to all this hunger…hate and war

We need all guardians of angels to remember

what we were all created for.