Midweek Motif - Poets United
she had never heard of the golden rule
her kindness and devotion to others
was intrinsic - a second skin
she did not need chapter and verse
to instil charity into her own sweet heart
she was the sun that made the gospels shine
hers was to give without receiving
and everyone took and took
mercilessly
until the golden goose
was depleted and of no more use to them
like her ancient silk stocking bag with the goose head
and her old war time musty furs
smelling of face powder and cologne
hanging in the wardrobe
at the end
without complaint
without bitterness
she sat alone in the rain
there was no elephant to shelter her
i remember
how could i forget
Exquisite poem, subtly moving from the general to the specific to the dearly missed. Brilliant. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI want to wrap my arms around her and hug her never letting go. Wonderful poem, Rall.
ReplyDeleteGiving hearts often encounter this phenomenon. I really like the description of her personal items...very cool. LOVED the closing lines....no elephant to shelter her. So sad. But thankfully you remember her, and saw all that she gave.
ReplyDeleteOh, this pricks with that dull ache of only giving and giving everything away in life, without getting anything in return. This makes me think that it would require some kindness towards own self to realize that self-care and self-love are primary. Well penned!
ReplyDeleteSadly life is like that, give to one charity and half a dozen others get to hear about it and are begging you for more!
ReplyDeleteYes this is a huge danger therefor i think kindness should be first applied to oneself. Great poem and love that last line "she sat alone in the rain there was no elephant to shelter her" so powerful
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautifully painted, though deeply sad portrait.
ReplyDelete"without complaint / without bitterness" Two great qualities a pure soul has. She does not need anyone's shelter. She has a blessed solitude and spared from fools' company.
ReplyDeleteI love : ...the sun that made the gospels shine...and the POW, right in the kisser ending! Hope you are groovy like an old time movie!
ReplyDeleteMagic in your poem, Rall! Sheer magic. And great sorrow. The givers of kindness seem to invite others to take advantage of them, and take advantage the selfish ones do.
ReplyDelete