Poem to Myself
By SARAH BYCK
You have given your son a plastic watering can
he now holds suspended over the bathtub
watching a stream of water shower down
upon the smooth, white surface.
As he fills it again you reach for your book and open it
to a favourite poem hoping to thwart
this staggering boredom that comes from sitting
crouched in play now for three years.
The poem is well-rhythmed and vivid,
turning a handful of simple moments
into a kind of rhapsody,
causing the little wings in your chest to rustle and flap,
all because of a peach, an arched bridge,
a walk in the garden.
What I want to say to you is,
lift your eyes off the page.
Put the book down and direct
your gaze to your small son.
The bottoms of his socks have darkened,
and patches of water spot his jeans but still
he carries on with his industry,
broadening his scope to include
the tiled shower stall and the little perched sink,
feeding liquid down into each silver gullet.
Look at his face, the way he is so rapt,
yet at the same time open
to the full enjoyment of what he is doing.
These are the moments of his life,
which are the moments of your life, too.
The poet has crossed the bridge,
he has finished the peach and tossed the pit
into a snarl of bushes and gone home to sit
by a blazing fire where you are not invited to join him.
Step out from the thicket
of your mind and join your son instead.
Follow the damp footprints down the hall
and watch as he pulls a heap of soft blankets
to the floor and fashions them into a nest.
He wants only that you climb in with him, that you sit
together taking turns, first him, then you,
his little finger pointing. You are the Mama bird, he says,
and I am the baby.
from Literarymama.com
amber
5
Ohhhh. See, it didn’t need commentary. It’s so beautiful just like that. Brought tears to my eyes, because that is me, except I’m not trying to read poetry but sneak back to my computer screen.
Kris
5
Jenny. My heart cracked a little with this poem. Exactly me today. I was attempting to read a riveting book club book – and growling at all the playful interruptions from my sweet babies. Thank you.
Molly Sabourin
5
Mmm-hmmm, it totally tugged at my heart too. Oh, I’m so busy – busy, busy, busy, all the time (sigh). You could post this every week, Jenny, and I’d be no less convicted by her words no matter how many times I read them – convicted in a good and important kind of way. So, thank you!
Beth Johnson
5
Oh and have I been so guilty of this- being consumed with my own thoughts, my own feelings, my own words., my computer screen as well. “Step out from the thicket of you mind and join your son instead.” Posting that line on my fridge and praying for the discipline so that it is possible. Thank you.
A blessed Bright Week to you and your beautiful family.
Rachel
5
Jenny, you know you have a bit of a bird/ nest obsession. Thinking of the day I stood in a frame shop with you in Bronxville picking out the perfect setting for your book motivational photograph.
Suzanne Lichtenstein
5
So well done, so true! And like a good poet, you’ve touched each one of us in the soul.