JOY … in our own separate peace

"I think this to myself even though I love my daughter. She and I have shared the same body. There is a part of her mind that is a part of mine. But when she was born she sprang from me like a slippery fish, and has been swimming away ever since. All her life, I have watched her as though from another shore.” Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club



Note: Sunday was Mothers' Day in the U.S..  Belated but sincere Happy Mothers’ Day to all the mothers and to all the dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents and older siblings who are covering for moms who are gone.

sometimes ...
near impossible to see past the manic crowds
or to lift our eyes to look at the wholesome
trees inscribing their calm upon the sky

sometimes ...
we record our fears with writing utensils,
call them weapons, coloring the margins
of our books with the dry dust of martyrdom

sometimes ...
the children use their pages to wipe dry their
mothers’ tears, turning backs on the old refrains,
hearing their own souls speak, deaf to their fathers

sometimes ...
those children fell trees, transforming them
to paper and well-sharpened pencils, their lives
written in the manor of their own separate peace

"Everything has to evolve or else it perishes." John Knowles, A Separate Peace

Originally published in Brooklyn Memories

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day and The BeZine); illustration courtesy of Dawn Hudson, Public Domain Pictures.net

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