I think you are most yourself when you are swimming;
slicing the water with each stroke, the funny way you breathe, your mouth cocked as though you're yawning. You're neither fantastic nor miserable at getting from here to there. You wouldn't win any medals, Dad, but you wouldn't drown. I think how different everything might have been had I judged your loving
like I judge your sidestroke, your butterfly,
your Australian crawl. But I always thought I was drowning in that icy ocean between us, I always thought you were moving too slowly to save me, When you were moving as fast as you can.
Poem 003, Poetry 180
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This is a small poetry club that started as a poetry email exchange between two friends. Our goal is to read a poem everyday, and this blog is one way to help keep us accountable. There is only one valid rule in poetry club: there are no rules in poetry club. Read any poem, in any order, with any or no interactions. You decide. We only suggest you read poetry!
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Cool extended metaphor. I can relate to being overly critical of my parents. Is it natural to be more or harsher judges of the people closest to us?
ReplyDeleteLooking back with a new lesson learned. Maybe the author has just become a parent herself? I wonder what has given her this new vision.
ReplyDeleteYes, parents are intricate creatures...put there for us to protest just because we can. Definitely harsher "judges" to those closest to us, but maybe a different word than judge in the end because we only judge because we love, judge to make stronger, analyze to find wisdom!
Quite inquisitive indeed
ReplyDeleteI agree
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