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anotherdream Jan 11
You were in my arms
Now you're in distress
From all the nights you cried
Still saddened by this loneliness

I'm familiar with that state
And how it takes me down again
Down this rabbit hole of regrets
And my thoughts of what I said

So I'll make sure you never stumble
When you're running up ahead
I'll keep you safely in my arms
As I calmly brace your head

And if the world has turned to mayhem
And is on its final legs
I can hold you for eternity
Until you're feeling safe again

Before you're leaving me to run
Towards the sun you're convinced is red
Still searching our baby blue ocean
As you're laying on its bed

So I'll do everything I can
To make sure you have some friends
Who can be there when it's rough
When your days are blue again
I imagine it's quite difficult being a father... seeing your own children experience pain but knowing you can't (and shouldn't) shelter them from it. They need to experience the negative emotions as much as they experience the positive ones.
Elizabeth Kelly Dec 2024
You were born on a Wednesday.
It was snowing, I think.
I nearly died, and you too,
My blood pressure screaming as your heart rate bobbed and weaved,
A reaction to the terrible ordeal of being born.

The night I learned you were a girl
I lay in bed alone and asked you about yourself.
What is your name?
Beatrice,
you said.
Bee.
A name all your own, belonging to only you.
Beatrice the First:
Shakespeare’s snap dragon heroine;
Dante’s ethereal guide.
Traveler and pollinator;
Wings and a stinger.

Daddy was scared but I didn’t know until later.
He made jokes and played “Something’s Rattling, Cowpoke” by Ben Gibbard on the Bluetooth and held my right leg when it was time to push.

And suddenly there you were.
More alive than the Holy Spirit on Sunday morning,
Bigger than poetry
Bright as a technicolor daydream
And so substantial.
We did it. We made it.

The Tibetans believe that we are all wandering souls.
That crazy movie, Enter the Void, I think about it all the time.

We choose.

Did you choose me?
A willful, chronically sleep-deprived, anxious mess?
How did you know it would work out?
How did you know that my life would not start until, with an audience of doctors and nurses and your family, you were laid in my arms that cold night?
I have such doubts but this I know:
I will choose you every moment of every day and  still
it will not be enough to repay you for giving me the gift of yourself.
Sara Barrett Dec 2024
"You made it look easy," they whisper—
A phrase that echoes, hollow and sharp,
Cutting through the quiet of my solitary journey.

Navigating parenthood alone,
A military spouse stretched thin by distance,
Selling dreams as fragile as glass,
Balanced on the edge of every choice.

A diagnosis presses against my chest,
One child in my arms, another learning beside me.
Battles hidden behind closed doors,
Invisible to those who see only the surface.

When I bared the depths of my soul,
Resilience bloomed like wildflowers—
Not a cry, but a roar.

Judgments swirl around me—
A storm of misconceptions,
Echoes of untold stories etching my truth.

Others glimpse my path only when they walk similar roads,
Their perceptions shifting like sand,
Revealing the landscape of unseen struggles.

My journey is not a blueprint,
Nor a promise of simplicity.
Each step a singular rhythm,
Each challenge a raw, unscripted melody.

I didn't make it look easy;
I made it look possible.

Resilience is not a performance,
But a quiet, fierce rebellion.

No shortcuts, no easy roads—
Just forward motion,
Carved from determination,
Etched with survival's raw grace.
This poem gives voice to the unseen struggles that accompany strength. It challenges the idea that resilience is effortless, peeling back the layers of solo journeys, hidden battles, and quiet determination. With striking imagery and a steady rhythm, it speaks to the reality of carrying on—not to make it look easy, but to make it possible. It's a reflection on survival, perseverance, and the unspoken grace of moving forward despite it all.
Skylark 12 Nov 2024
In sweat and blood they birthed the stones.
Their backs bent in a dimly lit choreography,  
they strained to hoist the ashlars into place.
Thirty-six years in a most sacred guild,
they each apprenticed the other.

Their aging bodies lust for sleep,
but it runs from them into the cold night.
Lying there, limbs entwined for warmth,
their calloused fingers touch scars,
which mark the years on their rounding frames.

They remember the works of their labors.
The six structures on which they’ve toiled.
Their six children raised with hope.
The six cathedrals in whom they pray,
both their memories and Christ will dwell.
Kitty Downing Nov 2024
I've always been soothed
By the sound of the sea
You both arrived with waves of pain
And crashing of water
Perhaps that's why I'm soothed
By the two of you

The steady blink of a lighthouse
Anchored to the bed
Until you had to come out
A knife to the sand dune of my belly
I couldn't feel my legs
But I could feel you

A tiny hand, a star fish over my heart
Holding on as we were cast adrift
To navigate unchartered waters
Sometimes it felt like we were going under
But you were always there on my chest
The swell of the waves
Up, down, up, down

It seems a life time ago
Those stormy nights, milk drunk, lost
We've built castles, moats and skimmed stones
I have always been soothed by the sound of the sea
And I hope that the two of you
Will always be soothed
By me
thyreez-thy Mar 2024
Oh little Caterpillar, 10 years old
Yet has a soul of solid gold
How can such a young being be such a joy
A spirit so welcoming, in a life you enjoy

Such a sad backstory yet you stand your grounds
Such a wonderful personality, your kindness knows no bounds
How fitting a cold, withered tree, was privileged enough to host such a loving caterpillar
And said tree also hopes to see her grow into a giant pillar
Your wonders run deeper than the orange river

To keep you in a jar would squander your abilities
To lead you too far would hinder your quality
You lead your life to your very own melody
To a song I learnt of too late, which led to a self made tragedy

You will become a butterfly, I know this to be true
Because you already have great morals, and a loving family too
I miss the little caterpillar that told me of her future
And I thank the heavens for the pleasure to have known her
Standing and hoping another fated meeting would occur

Alas, little caterpillar, you are but only a child
That had the ability to widen my smile
For 10 months I lacked joy, and your presence awoke my spirit
You left all too soon, before my heart and words could erupt

I come to wonder what happened to that little caterpillar
And if she ever contemplates the time we had together
Will the butterfly see me as nostalgia or a distant memory?
Will I be the oak tree of destiny, or just ancient history?
A girl I met a few months back in December of 2023, She had inspired me to live my life to the fullest. A kid I wish to truly see make it in life and have the same joy I did when spending time with her.
Zywa Dec 2023
The *** Ed booklet:

man and woman hand in hand --


keeping their distance.
Poem "At the River" (2009, Louise Glück)

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 0s"
You are the diseased soil in which these doomed seeds were sown,

You are the poison tree from which these evil apples dropped,

And you are the acid rain that raises the earthworms from their
underground abodes
and eats

eats

eats away.
Today I turn 18.
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