Miscellany

Ordinary Holy

i’ve been nostalgic for my babies lately.  no, i don’t want another, just remember the sleepless years with a bit of fondness since i finally have some distance.  

this is for all the young mothers, buried under a pile of onesies, tantrums, and spitup, wondering what the hell happened to their voice  and hoping they’ll someday find it again.

somewhere deep down

i am

a poet

but right now,

i’m doing the laundry.

.

how did this happen,

this daily, mundane takeover?

dishes, diapers, dust –

these are not the things

of which a poet speaks.

but they are the things

of my today.

.

how do I meld these two words –

Ordinary.

Holy.

without either

losing flavor?

.

a cry pleas from the crib,

the deep eyes hold mine,

pining for just

one

more

moment.

i lose, and stay

even though

my energy for any more moments

ended hours ago.

while words reach far into my soul,

the eyes touch

deeper still.

.

perhaps one day,

the poet deep down

will resurface

to a new world,

seasoned by the

holiness

of these ordinary days.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s