Club Of Complications

Hl. Maria, 1518, Eiche bemalt, Westfalen Holy Mary, 1518, oak painted, Westphalia Aus der Serie "Madonna & Co" from the series "Madonna & Co."

Hl. Maria, 1518, Eiche bemalt, Westfalen
Aus der Serie “Madonna & Co”

The child is in her arms

And I understand

The smile on her face,

The concern in her brow,

How she is so careful with

The round, round head of her baby

Plastic car seat

Molded to fit a human being

I have seen her tears,

The ones mothers shed,

Those real ones.

I have witnessed her past tears,

The ones children use,

The fake ones.

She will use both.

She will experience both,

To raise her child

I have lost all my tears

Except the quiet ones who

Slip out a little yelp

When silence

Lifts its veil, so

I can see a face

I know too well.

That face is not necessarily mine

But, a conglomeration of

All faces I’ve know

Or thought I’ve known



My old lover’s

The baby’s

The food I offer her

Warms her belly

Seasoned, spiced, for life.

Her baby sniffs at the smell

Not ready to join

The club of complications

Taking tears into many directions.

Instead, real need

Forms, as a goofy smile

A raise of the eyebrows

A wrinkle of the forehead

Quickly she places a bottle

Full of formula into the mouth

Of those expressions.

We all recognize gifts.

There are times when I think

My palms are too heavy.

That they don’t belong

To my hands, weighed down

By the attempt to raise them.
I watch with interest

As her baby waves hands

Like feathers, air, free

I can remember when her hands

Performed the same movement

Did I hold them down?

When I was too busy trying

To relinquish the heaviness

Of the course life, a direction?

Ahhh, but it’s all light and movement

Weights, worlds, and smiles

While tears perform.

I eat solids now

Perhaps there is more

To gravity than apples falling

Orbiting moons, twirling galaxies

that seeps, deep

Through the fabric of skin.

And that painting, playing

Wondering, writing, crying

Is a continuous attempt

To raise our hands

Through the cloth, to….

Shake them about in a fury,

To see how weightless our hands

Become during the time

It takes to complete a few rotations

Around an insignificant sun.

That just happens to be

The brightest one any of us know

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

22 Responses to Club Of Complications

  1. Sharron says:

    Very nice. I really liked this one.


  2. Joyful2bee says:

    So hauntingly, beautifully melancholic.


  3. flythedreams says:

    Beautiful. I love the line “perhaps there is more to gravity than apples falling.”


  4. Stuart Campbell says:

    Evoked some wistfully pleasant emotions about parenthood.


  5. Talia Hardy says:

    Fly the dreams comment echoes my thoughts exactly. Such a pensive poem to end the day with. Thanks Elan.


  6. Robyn Haynes says:

    So thought provoking. Memories of my own sweet babies, their expressions, and mine. The statue looks so pensive.


  7. Wow! I am so in love with it 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Captures the fullness of life, the dark, the light, happiness tinged with sorrow. Very beautiful.


  9. gerbilette says:

    A lot of depth and simplicity in your lines. Tears and apples.


  10. vivachange77 says:

    Tenderness enfolds your images. Lovely. ❤


  11. Nancy J says:

    Your blog is addictive.


  12. wwwpalfitness says:

    Reblogged this on wwwpalfitness.


  13. Brenda Lee says:

    Beautifully written. It carried me across so many moments of my own life. Thank you for the gift.

    Liked by 1 person

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