posted on April 28, 2003 05:54:17 PM new
Here's a poem about a boy & a mother that a friend sent me
today. I thought you'd like it (Billy Collins is the current U.S.
poet laureate):
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room
bouncing from typewriter to piano
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the "L" section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word, Lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past.
A past where I sat at a workbench
at a camp by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips into a lanyard.
A gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard.
Or wear one, if that's what you did with them.
But that did not keep me from crossing strand over strand
again and again until I had made a boxy, red and white lanyard for my
mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold facecloths on my forehead
then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim and I in turn presented her with a lanyard.
"Here are thousands of meals" she said,
"and here is clothing and a good education."
"And here is your lanyard," I replied,
"which I made with a little help from a counselor."
"Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth and two clear eyes to read the world." she
whispered.
"And here," I said, "is the lanyard I made at camp."
"And here," I wish to say to her now,
"is a smaller gift. Not the archaic truth,
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took the two-toned lanyard from my
hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless worthless thing I wove out of boredom
would be enough to make us even."
posted on April 28, 2003 08:22:55 PM new
What a lovely poem, roadsmith. But I think it's biased. LOLOL!!! It makes the mother's job sound so difficult when in fact, I feel like I will always owe my children something for the pleasure that they gave me. We all have memories of those little lanyards.. I'll never forget a birthday cake that my daughter gave me when she was about six. She turned the kitchen upside down while I waited in another room.. Then she came out carrying the cake which was about one inch tall, like it was the hope diamond on a cushion.
My response was, Oh, that's looking great! Now you can add the second layer. She sat the cake down, put her hands on her hips and said, It's already on there!!! So..I said, great! You made it so fast!!!
posted on April 29, 2003 07:05:17 PM new
What a beautiful poem, Roadsmith! Thank you for posting it!!
I don't think anything is as beautiful as a bond between a mother and her child(ren)...I feel the same way, helen - and my little boy is only 5 (soon to be 6 - remember those "half" years LOL)
My mother has given me many things, but the most special time we have ever shared was at the birth of my son. She was in the delivery room with me, tears welled up in her eyes,- and she looked at me and said "Every time a child is born, so is a mother. Enjoy the learning you will share together" - and she was so right. Everyday is an adventure with him
"Be kind. Remember everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." - Harry Thompson
"I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it." - A Few Good Men
posted on April 29, 2003 09:55:21 PM new
I'm glad you folks are appreciating this poem; sometimes when we post things here, I'm sure we wonder if we're looking a bit sappy. . . .
My friend Mary sent me the poem; her married daughter Sally, who has a little son Seth, had sent it to her across the continent. Here is what my friend Mary said to me today:
"I was blown away by the poem Sally sent. Here was what I responded to her: "Well (wiping the tear from my
eye) what a beautiful poem. It reminded me of the moment when Seth (age five) came into my kitchen carrying my
gorgeous blown glass bengal tiger I had owned for fifty years in one hand, and a small wire candy cane he had
made from two baggie-ties in the other, and said "Gramma, can we make a trade?" I agreed, and I knew then, as I
know now, that I had gotten the best of the deal. As did the lucky mamma with the lanyard (whatever that is)."
Sally responded today and said he always keeps the tiger in the box I put it in for him because he is so afraid it
might get broken. (It's very fragile and truly beautiful.) For some reason that's a really special memory for me in my
moments with Seth. He was quite sure at the time that it was a fair trade. Some day, probably after I'm gone, he will
realize that it was actually a demonstration of how much I loved him."
