I hate how the upload losing the formatting. Plus, nothing I have tried seems to correct the problem. Oh well. Here it is without the proper format.
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The Inchworm and the Heron
On my son’s shoulder sat the inchworm,
Having hitched a ride into the sanctuary.
The eulogy progressed.
I gently coaxed it
Onto a Torah cover,
To bide its time
Until I could help it
Return to its world.
It measured the cover’s perimeter—
Up down, up down—
At the corner it stretched out
Sightlessly reaching
seeking
striving
A life carefully measured,
Centered on words of wisdom
Trying to find connection
purpose
community
When we went to leave
It had vanished, lost to view.
At the cemetery we mourners
unmoored
unconnected
unsure,
Struggled to strengthen our earthly ties,
Reaching out, looking helplessly,
For what had been lost
Over our heads a heron
Crossed the sky
Effortlessly floating
gliding
drifting
Might rootlessness be desirable?
Might the ceasing of striving be purposeful?
Above the confines of earth
the heron soared.
2 comments
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July 28, 2009 at 12:28 PM
Narendra
nice poem…i like the comparisons..
January 19, 2011 at 4:53 AM
Kay
I write a lot of poems from experiences with my daughter. I even started writing one for her every year on her birthday. I started when she was six; she’s now twelve. The poem is the gift she looks foward to most.