Son and Moon It is my death before my death, my time before my time It is my loss, my grief, my son, my way . . .
Tag: Poetry
Words of Hope
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
Quote: Issa, Japanese poet and willower
Does Issa speak of longing? His tears? Or continuing, despite the tears? I first read these lines a handful of years ago. When I was too attached. Unwilling to go on without— My beautiful boy. I was unable to save him. The smartest doctors in the world were unable to save him. And then, I couldn’t bring him back. No matter how hard I cried,… Continue reading Quote: Issa, Japanese poet and willower
Poem #30: “S”
In a dream
a small boy visited me,
golden nimbus around his face,
lucent white skin
and lustrous eyes,
green like the Nile.
His features captivated me,
but I loved his humor the most.
His laughs were musical sounds
from another place.
He stamped smiles and danced
with pure energy,
and acted out his thoughts
for me to see.
For he didn’t speak,
yet he clearly understood my words
and appeared to delight in them.
I held my dream child close,
and he knew I would love him
forever.
He circled me with joy
and ran on airspace, laughing.
Then whispered by me,
waving his hand,
Be right back.
I called for him to stay near.
When suddenly he was felled
by some unseen collision
that took his breath.
Dead?
I fell to my knees and cried
over my small angel child.
I buried my face in his whiteness
and heard unrecognizable cries
that haunt me still.
“Wake up! Please! Please! Please, wake up!
No! Oh, no. No. No…”
His glow lingered and reflected off a mist
that enveloped me and echoed my wails.
The steam wept with me for that small,
spotless, sleeping soul
dissolving in my arms—ashes.
I held nothing but myself—skin and bones.
And beside me his dust grew into a tree,
as if blown with breath
through a straw, painted on canvas.
The branches spread out and multiplied,
ready for leaves yet to come.
And in the tree’s center—its heart,
the initial, S, was engraved.
And it went up as the tree grew tall.
♥
In memory of my Sam. My son. My beautiful boy.
March 2, 1998 – April 30, 2007
Poem #29: “Deaf”
By Sam K. (age 9)
Some people say noise hurts their head
Some people say they wish they were dead
all because it’s oh so loud
but I am absolutely wowed
for I cannot hear a thing
not a single jingle or a ring
I cannot think of the
cause of it
maybe because I am
deaf
Poem #28: “ABC’s”
Anomalies & Birthdays
Cookies & Dogs
Earthly Façade
Grieving Heart
Ideas & Jokes
Killdeers & Life
Mammoth Nobody
Off-and-on
Puffy Questions
Rabbits, Sages
& Teachers
Ultramarine
Vanishing
Waiting…
Xeriscaping
Yeti
Zen
♥
Poem #27: “Dove”
After the mourning
Dove leaves me with a question
Who-are-you – you – you?
Poem #26: “Water”
It was all a dream
Like writing on water
Ripples then glass
Poem #24: “Returning”
As a child, I looked
When I heard the jingle
Of my lost dog’s metal tags
Paper phone numbers fading
Blowing away
I looked
Just in case
And there she was…
Returning
Now, I look
When I hear the sound
Of my lost child’s melting voice
Footsteps on the carpet fading
Years away
I look
Just in case
But there he isn’t…
Returning
Poem #22: “Earth”
On a bike ride
we found a lost ball,
a huge plaything
cornered by the wind
in a drainage ditch.
Caked with dirt,
we noticed it looked
like Earth,
A blue marble
under the grime.
Sam begged to keep it.
So we brought it home,
hosed it down,
cared for it, and the Earth-ball
shined again.
It blew in the wind
and orbited the fenced yard.
I can still see him catching it,
holding up the planet,
laughing—
He had the whole world
in his hands.
Haiku Poem #21: “Warrior”
A willower
Heart tattooing, summoning
The warrior
Poem #20: “Zoo”
Zookeeper’s fingers, relaxed
Splayed
Leafy chameleon, sticky toes
Stayed
Don’t be loud, touch
Gently
Note his eyes, orbit
Independently
Scaly thing, never misses
A fly
Spellbound children, eyes
Up high
On the mini-dinosaur’s
Gripping tail
In and around knotty branches
Going pale
We touched a snake, a chinchilla
Even a skink
But not the wolf spider—No way!
What do you think?
We washed off our hands and waited
In line
Ate our brown bag lunch in a sea
Of pine
The big yellow birds were waiting
Nearby
Line up now children, let’s all say
Goodbye
Phrases #19: “Powerful”
By Sam K. (age 8)
- Warm spring rain
- Cool blast of air
- I’d give up anything for you.
- Hot summer sand
- Warm, green ocean water
- Let the force be with you
- I love you deeper than the ocean
- With great power, comes great responsibility
Willower.org 
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