"refundable" poems - Hello Poetry

where to begin? let us acknowledge the responsibility of our actions, and the titles and duties, and the unexpected, thereof. I was a son, till this year, still, of sorts, but no longer, traded it in for orphan. are you still a child, when you have no parents? are you still a parent, when a child lost? I am a father, and grandfather. this definition of me, extant, future seeded, perhaps permanent, perhaps not. the product of actions more than thirty years ago, and events yet-to-be thirty years hence. titles claimed and granted, partial, not finite, not definitive, nor infinite. partial, but part and parcel, these titles, of you, yet they are not the totality, of you, but very much part of you, for you possess precious, The Imprint - The Gift. the child lost, the parent found, the newest coming, the oldest gone, all imprinted on your hands, just look at them! there are lines on your palms you do not know the meaning of, you do not yet know the ending, they are in your cells, as you are and were in theirs. The Imprint is The Gift that is non returnable, non refundable, nor is it diminished by any stone marker, measurement of a day, an uncertain, certain moment. Look in the mirror. see them in you, as they saw themselves in your reflection. ah, reflect. acknowledge that the absence is pain, but look at those hands, that face, your face, see the The Imprint - The Gift permit yourself an easement, for it the season of recollection. ah, re-collect, recollect. let the story. continue, by the retelling. find that palm line, find that psalm song, where the babe lost, the mother lost is the babe reborn, in new faces, forever contained in The Imprint. we all ken loss, we all keen know anguish, different kinds for different folks. do we not all have blood? but are there different types, and yet, all still blood related. prepare yourself for more sad to come, and some to never, woebegone. but do not forget, nay, you cannot, for seared it is, this imprint, a two sided copy of a single document, you on them, them on you. ~ an eyelash falls upon the poem. a decorative reminder, a stop sign, a decorative remainder, that it is time, to recall, to be unafraid. now, now, right now, is the time to remember, that very eyelash, the cells that are therein, the eyes that it has protected, saw, know, well recall, gave, gave part of you and smile, yes, smile, for in them, in the lines around your eyes, the crisscrossed cell map upon thy hands is the The Imprint, The Gift. where to end? This imprint upon your body exterior, part mark, part stain, part badge, part medal, part cain, part ribbon black pinned. it is twinned, for the match, the mate, of this gift I printed, is still in your living cells, and thus knowing the imprint is yours forever, they are not lost, you are not lost, for Their Imprint is a gift that is never ending shall eternal be a salve this happy, sad, melancholy, holy morn, day, season.

0

Dec 24, 2013

Dec 24, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

The Imprint is The Gift

where to begin? let us acknowledge the responsibility of our actions, and the titles and duties, and the unexpected, thereof. I was a son, till this year, still, of sorts, but no longer, traded it in for orphan. are you still a child, when you have no parents? are you still a parent, when a child lost? I am a father, and grandfather. this definition of me, extant, future seeded, perhaps permanent, perhaps not. the product of actions more than thirty years ago, and events yet-to-be thirty years hence. titles claimed and granted, partial, not finite, not definitive, nor infinite. partial, but part and parcel, these titles, of you, yet they are not the totality, of you, but very much part of you, for you possess precious, The Imprint - The Gift. the child lost, the parent found, the newest coming, the oldest gone, all imprinted on your hands, just look at them! there are lines on your palms you do not know the meaning of, you do not yet know the ending, they are in your cells, as you are and were in theirs. The Imprint is The Gift that is non returnable, non refundable, nor is it diminished by any stone marker, measurement of a day, an uncertain, certain moment. Look in the mirror. see them in you, as they saw themselves in your reflection. ah, reflect. acknowledge that the absence is pain, but look at those hands, that face, your face, see the The Imprint - The Gift permit yourself an easement, for it the season of recollection. ah, re-collect, recollect. let the story. continue, by the retelling. find that palm line, find that psalm song, where the babe lost, the mother lost is the babe reborn, in new faces, forever contained in The Imprint. we all ken loss, we all keen know anguish, different kinds for different folks. do we not all have blood? but are there different types, and yet, all still blood related. prepare yourself for more sad to come, and some to never, woebegone. but do not forget, nay, you cannot, for seared it is, this imprint, a two sided copy of a single document, you on them, them on you. ~ an eyelash falls upon the poem. a decorative reminder, a stop sign, a decorative remainder, that it is time, to recall, to be unafraid. now, now, right now, is the time to remember, that very eyelash, the cells that are therein, the eyes that it has protected, saw, know, well recall, gave, gave part of you and smile, yes, smile, for in them, in the lines around your eyes, the crisscrossed cell map upon thy hands is the The Imprint, The Gift. where to end? This imprint upon your body exterior, part mark, part stain, part badge, part medal, part cain, part ribbon black pinned. it is twinned, for the match, the mate, of this gift I printed, is still in your living cells, and thus knowing the imprint is yours forever, they are not lost, you are not lost, for Their Imprint is a gift that is never ending shall eternal be a salve this happy, sad, melancholy, holy morn, day, season.