(For all the lonely parents)
*****
This psychic hath worked more than one or two
Festivals, fairs and gatherings, with those
Who passionately wished an answer knew
To some conundrum. Indescision’s throes
Would have them at her booth with hat in hand
And, often too, a tear behind the eye
Struggling their dilemna understand
Without embarrassment, tried not to cry
Increasingly in our fragmented world
I’ve met the broken hearted parents of
Children from out whose lives they have been hurled,
Suffering from a backed-up flood of love
Only another parent understand —
No chubby cheeks to kiss the weeping from
Crossing the street without a tiny hand
To hold, they frenzied sorrowful become
The angels hov’ring near would always weep
As would the client, when their word they hear:
“You’ve an appointment with that child to keep
Before there pass too many more a year
“It’s not the voice told them to eat their peas,
Take out the trash, and get their homework done
Which will their curiosity appease
About real life — when all is said and done
“At threshold of those so inquiring years
Testimony regarding it they seek
They’ll burn past all of your ex partner’s fears
And ’tis yourself with whom they’ll wish to speak
“Ay, if you bravely bear your sorrow now
So they find you fulfilled and happy be
It’s you they’ll ask to tell and show them how
Serenity and happiness to see
“Between now and that day, bear out your pain
Dry your unhappy tears, face down this strife
Then when you see your so loved child again
By it you will have made a friend for life”
They knew — they knew the truth was what they heard
They felt it in their very bones and skin
The penetrating essence of that Word
So instantly its healing work begin
And when they left, an hundred pounds apiece
Rolling away new lifted shoulders from,
Each step reflecting a purposeful peace,
‘Twere as a diff’rent person they’d become
For though the path were steep, rocky and rough
This they did have to cling to, this they knew:
They yet might be for their child’s needs enough —
‘Twere all it took. Now they had Work to do!
*****
The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts
