pickings…
You see its not that I don’t care.
I do just not about everything,
only some things, a chosen few –
such as three children entrusted to
my wits
and their mother who
I vowed to love to death
and the
parents worthy of a weekly call
plus the sticky friends, the ones
who eat grace from the comb.
You see then the pickings get
slim, an aggregate of judgment –
for example
the moon’s monthly striptease
and waking up early on christmas
and John Ford’s cinematic west
plus the ache when the captain sings Edelweiss.
Discernment is hard but vital,
without it your bones won’t harden,
you’ll live a flimsy-frame life.
Its the same with words, oh
my the words with their tiny
hands straining high from
their lithe lines squirming
in their oaken desks pleading
with elementary courage
pick me, pick me, pick me!
So much wisdom buried beneath your words. Lately, my eyes have been opened to this, not wanting to live a “flimsy-frame life.” Beautiful images and strings of words. I think I use the word “beautiful” every time I comment on one of your poems, but sometimes it just fits.
Thanks, Lizzie…have a splendid day!
Lead on John… your words are a healing balm to my troubled mind. By the last line of this piece, my physiology was altered for better and I am more prepared to thoughtfully walk through another day of living in this beautiful world.
James, its good to know of other troubled minds out there…makes me not feel so alone.
This poem made me smile.
It’s not that IO don’t want to care about everything. It’s that I can’t. There is too much brokenness and heartache in the world, and if I cared about all of it, it would crush me. So, I have to care about me and mine and leave the rest in God’s capable hands.
Very nice! The daily choices while keeping what’s truly important the top priority. Good words…wise pickings.