When I was young, hovering upon womanhood
pain passed me by,
stopped short of pushing me
into undefined space within.
I did not know
grief sealed me in
defining that space
with walls of colour-washed tears.
My brain dropped pain
no further than a tightened throat
and possibly stinging eyes.
I know this now,
watching children inching into puberty
their faces vivid with thoughts
spilling into poems faster than they can write them down.
This Spring I read
poems chalked in colour
on paving stones in a pedestrian area
by children whose lives
spanned less than a first decade -
words that breathed life beneath passing feet.
No link can bridge the distance
between the tv set in my living room
and the children's classroom
And pain drops tears which sadden my heart.
A contest entry
- Best free verse for an anthology: OVWA Winklings # 182 by Lyndon.
2050 points, ended July 29, 39 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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This is a very poignant poem, which hints of loneliness and longing of a life once lived.
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Thank you for your sympathetic comments. It's interesting how I felt when I wrote the poem and how differently you saw it when you read it. Loneliness is something I've seldom experienced even in a long life. Occasionally I fell into it but most of the time I have been, and still am, a loner. The difference between aloneness and loneliness is one of contentment in the first and discontent in the second. But because I am aware now that I could tip over into loneliness unless I get back into the outside world again, your comment is not only apposite but also a gentle spur to action. Thank you.
Joy
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