Confluent

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Confluent

Category: Eve Moore Friday, 13 August 2021 Views: 2737

Confluent

My child had a meltdown today.

No kicking and screaming,

just a burble of tears

that seemed to

beat the air

like a deer

fly in the

damp

violet

rise of

day.

She wanted

attention.

She is three and

not yet conversant

in the ways of the

adult’s swallowing of

unpleasantness.

Attention is not

the thing we give

to the pleading

of overwhelm,

we’ve learned

the hard way.

Suddenly, I felt

the hardness

of this way.

And instead of deflecting

her torrent, like so many rivers,

dammed, diverted, managed, saying,

effectively, ’not this way,’ I turned

to her, gentleness overwhelming

the adroit waywardness I

confronted, and asked

why are you crying?

Not why

are you

crying.

…why?

All I could make out

was the crushed velvet,

the delicate torn

embroidery

of her sorrow.

Mind you, she’s three.

Wise and essentially unintelligible,

if functionally foreign

of tongue.

So she drew me a picture.

It was a familiar scene.

Its palette nearly

monochrome,

lines thick

with lead.

Its subject

inscrutable.

When I asked

where does it hurt,

she pointed: here

a sweeping gesture encompassing the world

around her.

Us.

I understood.

I cried, too.

And then I

remembered

to breathe.

As I did, she did.

Together we took in

the stuff of life.

And slowly, as we

watched each other

rise and fall with its soft

slaking, pouring, we

stilled.

Smiles crept

over the storm-swept smear

of our faces.

Neither of us knew

that neither of us

was alone. Not

entirely.

People always say

she has her father’s eyes:

highland lochs of blue,

cornflowers at

gloaming.

But they’re my eyes.

My eyes.

For she is not

the child I’ve held

within me,

she’s the child I hold

within me.

∞/∞

Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.

For more of Eve Moore's amazing and heart centered poetry and writings, click here!
http://www.crystalwind.ca/eve-moore

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix

This poem/prose was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.

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ॐ Namasté - Blessings!
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