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| Photo Courtesy of Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales |
A hand shakes,
caresses my cheek,
tugs upon non-existent
ponytail, moist eyes
crinkle with approval...
see me not as I am.
I try and imagine
how it would've felt
to have received
tender devotion
as a little girl
desirous of his affection,
not an image conjured up
by a doddering mind,
years too late.
by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, revised July 9, 2013 (original June 7, 2011)
This is for dVerse - Open Link Night #104 ... and Friday Flash 55 (which I will link up to Thursday after 8pm. This was originally a poetry prompt for Magpie Tales - Tess collects all sorts of things - and her weekly photo prompts for poetic expression are still going strong!
15 comments:
There is deep sadness here. So hard not to have received the devotion one wanted / needed as a child.
sounds like he missed out on an opportunity back in the day...and thought of it far too late....
i remember that pic...that has been a while...
I feel the pain in this. My mother never told me she loved me until she had Alzheimer's...She didn't know who I was.
Margaret, powerful emotions here. And a stunning image.
All sorts of things, indeed. WOW.
So sad--this write--and all of us who desired the attention of a parent can relate--
So sad... we all long for that tender devotion from our fathers... and it stays with us.
Powerful. Moving. Sad. Regretful. Well done.
Both my grandfathers died before I made my appearance on this planet. This poem reminds me of what could have been. Oh well... the now is good, tho.
xoox
How tragic...but I think anyone can relate to those regrets...those missed opportunities. If you need the code still, Margaret, email me at--
the_talon@ymail.com
Margaret Bednar...
This is why I spent lots of time loving my children and letting them know it.
I let them know it till this day
Loved your 'Cats in the Cradle' 55
Thanks for your always brilliant insight, LOVE having you back
Have a Kick Ass Week End
That is so sad. Makes the original lack of love all the worse.
A striking, disturbing photo, and a tight and well-crafted poem to go with it--for me the terrible thing about the past is not so much what happened, but that it can't ever be changed--only endured.
This is a tight, powerful piece Margaret. You pack a lifetime of anguish in to these few words.
And welcome back.
This one really tugs at the heart. Those wishes and regrets will always haunt us.
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