PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

May we be blessed to nurture our children’s wings

So when they don’t need our constant guidance anymore

Not only will they be ready to fly…

they’ll be ready to soar.

Today I’m grateful to revisit the words of L. R. Knost…

She wrote:

It’s not our job to toughen our children up

to face a world that is heartless and cruel…

It is our job to raise children,

who will make the world a little less heartless and cruel.

To all those who don’t think what’s happening In this country is evil or bizarre…

A reminder of the duties to our children…PLEASE…remember who you are…

We have a duty to all the children of the world from the moment of their birth…

A duty to make them feel safe and happy while they walk upon this Earth.

A duty to teach them right from wrong…how to respect the land, the plants, the birds

A duty to show them our actions will always be more important than our words.

A duty to show them kindness and love…to help them grow, mature and cope.

A duty to teach them about friendship, honor, justice and to fill their world with hope.

A duty to show them things that need to be changed…and things they must accept.

A duty to show them all life is precious…and that promises need to be kept.

A duty to help them handle their mistakes and failures…

to show them good manners are never outdated…

A duty to show them that tenderness, love and charity can never be overrated.

A duty to allow their imaginations to soar…

to show them it is courageous to say when they’re wrong.

A duty to teach them compassion, caring and compromise 

are ways of showing they are strong.

Our final duty is to teach them every human being is important 

and deserves respect…no matter their sex, gender, color or race.

And when we choose to fulfill these duties 

the world is a more peaceful and beautiful place.

Perhaps the best reason to fulfill our duties to the children of the world

from the moment of their birth…

Is so they’ll be ready when they grow up to fulfill these duties

for the next generation of children 

as they walk upon this Earth.

Have you ever wondered why we love reading bedtime stories to our children

once they pray to God their soul to keep?

It’s more than, as parents, we are tired and we’d like to get some sleep.

It’s a wonderful moment at the end of the day

when the world slows down a tad

a quiet, intimate moment between a child, Mom and Dad.

We sit together on the bed…whatever trials and tribulations of the day are freed

as we wait with baited breath…for the story we’re about to read. 

It’s like the bed is a roller coaster…and we’re all strapped in there

knowing sometimes we’ll have to hold on tight

while other times we’ll raise our arms high in the air.

We don’t know what’s in store…what pitfalls we’ll have to weather….

dragons, pirates, ogres, witches…we will face them all…together.

We enter each page hand-in-hand 

unaware as to which way our imaginations will be bending

and knowing the heroes are depending on us to help them reach a happy ending.

And when we finish the story…that might not be the end

because there is a good chance we’ll be asked to read it all again.

When their eyes finally close we gently rise, quietly turn out the light

we pull their blankets up, tuck them in and kiss their head…good night.

We stop at the door, we turn, we smile 

knowing this story, like all bedtime stories, was much more that is seems….

It’s about love and family and sharing a moment together with our child

and…teaching them to dream.

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.