Having traversed the
continent
From the east coast
to the west,
I stand above the
shoreline now--
An aching, longing in
my chest.
I long to leave this
life behind
And sail the heavens’
endless sea;
An aching in my heart
says, “Turn;”
I see a child who
follows me.
Something calls to
me, “Press on.
There’s much to see
beyond the stars.”
But then a whisper
comes to me,
“I have not traveled
with you far”
My journey’s drawing
near its end
While your trek here has
just begun
Yet I will stay long
as I may
To show the way to
you, my son.
© 2012 Stan Sanford
Poetry comes from a love of words these were chosen carefully. The imagery is outstanding; “aching, longing in my chest”, I instantly as a reader know that this person at that moment is battling with their very soul. My heart tightened with the words; “I long to leave this life behind and sail the heavens’ endless sea, turn there is someone following me”. It is impossible for the reader to hold back familiar tears in regards to familiar feelings. I want to travel forward with this poet, he and I are searching for the same things or are we? We seek, in our subconscious dreams or thoughts but we always return because there is much left to do and love ones to attend to before we set sail. My favorite…”my journey’s drawing near its end”. As someone who recently lost an (adult) child, this piece tore at my heart, yet it made me feel that I was not alone. I go to the edge of the cliff and believe that I can fly to where my precious daughter resides with my God, then my other children are there below with a safety net saying , we will not let you succeed in you need to see our beloved sister. What a wonderful gift for me on this day of her memorial service two years ago with memories still fresh. This poet has lifted my soul and I will be able to walk through another day of “hell on earth”.
ReplyDeleteOutstanding imagery, the rhythm of the piece flowed into a conclusion that gave merit, peace and the feeling of unbounded love. Keep writing and creating. ajm
Ann,
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your kind remarks; they touch me in the depth of my being. I thought I wrote this for me, but God must have had you in mind.
I grieve with you in the loss of your daughter. Somewhere, I had picked up on the loss of your mother, but that could not account for the depth of the pain that echoes in your writings. I have never experienced the loss of a child, as such, but I have walked with several who have. In the first of those experiences, I watched a 96 year old mother grieve the loss of her 72 year old son. I realized then that to lose a child to death must be among the greatest of human pain. Any death “diminishes me” (John Donne), but the death of a child is out of time, out of the natural order. We should bury our parents, not the other way around. My mother held my little brother as he breathed his last breath, and we lost her for a while. Even when we got her back, she carried that pain the rest of her life. Yet, I believe in the healing of the heart. When we lose someone close to us, we lose a major resource for meeting our love need. Only love can relieve the ensuing pain and heal the wound. Your child lives on in your mind and rests in God--both of which provide resources to address your need for love; but your other children with their "safety net" provide your most proximate resource. After I wrote "Looking to the Horizon" and read it, it reminded me of a line from Paul, "I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with God, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you" (Phil. 1:23). That was when I expanded the title.
I have been experiencing a little anxiety regarding the time I have left to raise my son. He will turn six this year, and I will be 70. When God gave us to each other, he also gave the assurance that I would take care of him and that he would care for me. I guess I am seeking reaffirmation of that assurance.
So, I suppose, to look it in one way, one might say we are seeking are seeking the same thing. Only, we have different motivations for going on and altered motivations fro staying.
Writing is therapeutic—keep it up!
Regards,
Stan
Thank you for your lovely words!
ReplyDeleteI read this poem out loud a bunch of times, and the flow is so great. :)
It also reminds me of a million other things, but the one that sticks out is Lewis Carroll's poem, "Jabberwocky." :)
You are sent from God. ajm
ReplyDelete