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console the child inside you
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Dear Little Evan, console the child inside you,
be patient, speak softly,
hand him a tissue from time to time;
be kinder to him than he is to himself,
be kinder to him than you are to yourself.
let him cry it out,
he hasn't forgotten how to yet.
console the child inside you,
be gentle, speak calmly,
hand him a blanket to curl in tonight;
be the parent he needs right now,
be the friend that you didn't have.
let him panic a bit,
he hasn't learned to navigate the storm.
console the child inside you,
be hopeful, speak faithfully,
hand him the love he so desperately needs;
be the man he wishes to be,
be the child and set yourself free.
let him wonder a bit,
he hasn't wisdom you've gleaned from the pain.
I believe Starward,
I believe Starward, PostPoem's scholar who can put a poem under a microscope and comprehend its every nuance like no one else, said it all and said it best.
As I read it, the word "classic" kept coming to mind, and I tell you honestly, I believe it deserves to be in the pantheon of the great, unforgettable poems for its timeless grace, its pristine artistry, its priceless guidance, but most of all, its heart-melting emotional impact, which, in my humble opinion, is the language of poetry.
Congratulations on this. A literary conquest.
As of April of this year, I
As of April of this year, I have been reading Poetry for half a century (the first two years, compulsory; the rest, gladly voluntarily), but very few Poets have actually shaken my soul. Many impress my mind, but only the chosen few reach my soul. This poem puts you among that chosen few. This poem is, and is going to continue to be, one of the greatest poems ever posted at PostPoems. Your poem will minister to people you may never meet, and of whom you may never know, but on the great Day of Reckoning, you will see the great gppd that it will have done by that time. I am often an unpleasant old coot, a little too stubborn, and a little too smug, but I can recognize great Poetry when I read it. During my undergrad years, I was privileged to study the greatness of Poets long gone---Eliot, Stevens, and the greatest iof them all, Vergil. This prepared me (although I did not foresee it then) for PostPoems, where I have seen the magnificent greatness of living Poets---like Patriciajj, and now, yourself. Although I am probably in the final "go around" of my life, due to my medical problems, I thank God (and let me say it again, I thank GOD) for the privilege of being alive today to read this poem. A casual reader may think this comment may be just a string of superlatives; but a casual reader will not fully appreciate your Poem, which demands the best that the reader can bring to it. They told me, and they still tell me, that Vergil's great poetic gift was to describe the pathos of life and how to deal with it---his line, Sunt lacrimae rerum---reminds us that there are tears for things, and that we should accept that and deal with it, as Aeneas dealt with the horrible destruction of Troy. Your poem enters, and enters successfully, that realm that Vergil charted so well two thousand years ago, and I applaud you for it, and I thank you for sharing with us this poem, this magnificent and towering literary achievement!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Starward