Tag Archive | silence

Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Riding Shotgun in the Rain, Remember Man

Rain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetic Asides, Poem-a-Day Challenge April 2014
Day 1 – Beginning and Ending Poem

Riding Shotgun in the Rain

You might see that first drop
hit the windshield,
that splatter of insignificance.

But one small annoyance
will merge with another,
converging into liquid trails
downward, ever downward
heavy with purpose
in an attempt to cover
the whiffs of manure
leaving the farm.

So my futile tears
feed your intolerance,
till there is only a glass
of silence
growing between us.

We ride.

Remember Man

You have become
your arrogance,
a soft dusting of ego,
a pile of hypocrisy
crammed in a jar
with blackened bitterness
and irreverent assertions,
the arrogant intolerance
you would not swallow
in life.

In the end
you are dust,
thick and choking,
a smothering
of all you were.

11/24/09 Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Beyond Diversity

Incorrect

Beyond Diversity

The silence in the room
was the loudest noise,
each so afraid
to say the wrong thing.

They said nothing.

That said everything.

A Better Use for Our Sticks

My home is shut
to the approaching storm,
boarded up tight,
as you peek in.

I am only beginning
to see myself
through the window
you open.

Prop the window open.
I may not have the strength
to keep it up
alone.

If change
is allowed to blow in,
I must feel
the stinging debris
that hits me.

Help me
stand against the storm
with you.

Nobody Heard You Say That

Grandma says
that sun makes me sneeze
as particles rise
in the heat.

My head turns to the sound
that I thought I heard,
that wisp of a word
in the air.

Grandma says
that I should let it go
as words can never
hurt me.

Your eyes look to the dust
that floats in the light
as it settles
on me.

I am dirty
again
as you have brushed me
off.

(The following poems were written earlier,
but have new meaning when applied to the topic of diversity.)

Behind the Hidden Wall

Behind the hidden wall
a face stares back at me.

We strain as if to look
but neither one can see.

We stained the wall with tears
the hearts on both sides wept.

Our past is bound and tied
in memories still kept.

Our memories will help
to keep us close beside.

We cling to our desire
to reach the other side.

We wait the time away
till face to face we see.

Behind the hidden wall
a face stares back at me.

No More Than You

It is true I have suffered
but so have you
and we cry together
our common tears.

My tears with no more pain
than yours
fall onto the page
as I spill them out.

They land in drops
like Braille to be felt
by you who can’t see
past your own agony.

So I force you to look
at the page where I shout
and in your kindness
you reach out to me.

And in that moment
when you reached for me,
you stopped your crying
and began healing yourself.

10/14/09 Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Shedding Tears; Chores

Shedding Tears

My slippers made no sound
as I crept with the morning
to curl in Grandma’s wingback
and tuck my robe over my legs.

If my cat had the quiet foresight
to know that I was leaving
a shedding of myself
into the ambient air
of that that room,
she never warned me.

Now here, in the same chair
that moved with us
to this different place,
I feel the baldness
of myself
exposed to no one
but my cat.

Now knowing
my own shameful
revealing of my regrets,
I yearn for the opportunity
to go back
and gather up
the bits I left of myself.

Back in the old house
where the floorboards
knew where I should walk,
other slippers
have swept my dust.

Chores

Grandma had a wringer washer
that could crack your arm
if you were so foolish
as to hang on
when the cloth
compressed.

The bucket caught
the dirty liquid
that the clothes
could no longer bare.

I think when your sadness
leaked onto me,
I absorbed more
than you released.

I carried it,
sloshing and spilling out
overflowing with my silence,
and you never felt
the loss
of a drop.

Put another sticker,
a shiny clean star,
on my chore chart.

I have earned it today.