This is a beautiful poem and I have to say, without going into detail, that I have a very personal connection with it. The Pacific ocean, off the coast of Oregon, is where my wife and I spread the ashes of our first-born, new-born son. He, too, was made of stardust.
Thank you for sharing that deeply personal and heartbreaking fact. I don't have adequate words, but I'm glad the words I did write were meaningful to you. I'm so grateful for your presence here.
Thank you Mike. Your poem made me wonder if you had some kind of experience similar. Some of the words you used, and feelings evoked, were so spot on to a lot of my own personal experience. That’s what great poetry is meant to do even when we have different experiences and connections with it. Thanks for your poem today—it was quite lovely.
The one “fellowship” all parents should not belong to. Yet sadly, the company here is lovely—thank you for introducing yourself to me, Marjorie, with our common bond. We have bonds of a special kind of pain that is indescribable. Only poetry can come closest to opening the door to that infinity.
This is why Mike’s poem touched me in places that will always be tender, but that also always needs to be touched.
This conversation is deeply touching. I am so glad the two of you have met. You are both incredibly kind, deep-thinking, creative people. When life is at its most painful is when we need each other most.
Thanks, Corie! Thanks for recognizing one of the dualities of parenting: that we want our kids to feel good as much as possible, but we need to give them space and permission to feel every feeling.
Thank you so much, Will! That phrase was one of those that just dumped right out of my mind/fingers, without much idea of what it meant, until later. This is one of my favorite things about rhyme/assonance/alliteration/other-acoustic-treats: they have a way of appearing first and then explaining themselves later, if ever. (And, my favorite, when a reader points out a level of meaning I'd never see before!)
This is a beautiful poem and I have to say, without going into detail, that I have a very personal connection with it. The Pacific ocean, off the coast of Oregon, is where my wife and I spread the ashes of our first-born, new-born son. He, too, was made of stardust.
“Sleep tight, my sweet infinity.”
Indeed.
Thank you for sharing that deeply personal and heartbreaking fact. I don't have adequate words, but I'm glad the words I did write were meaningful to you. I'm so grateful for your presence here.
Thank you Mike. Your poem made me wonder if you had some kind of experience similar. Some of the words you used, and feelings evoked, were so spot on to a lot of my own personal experience. That’s what great poetry is meant to do even when we have different experiences and connections with it. Thanks for your poem today—it was quite lovely.
Completely understand… I have a StarChild too,
sweet infinity is held in my heart.
The one “fellowship” all parents should not belong to. Yet sadly, the company here is lovely—thank you for introducing yourself to me, Marjorie, with our common bond. We have bonds of a special kind of pain that is indescribable. Only poetry can come closest to opening the door to that infinity.
This is why Mike’s poem touched me in places that will always be tender, but that also always needs to be touched.
This conversation is deeply touching. I am so glad the two of you have met. You are both incredibly kind, deep-thinking, creative people. When life is at its most painful is when we need each other most.
Such a beautiful poem Mike, I felt every word.
Your piece - gave me peace 🙏☺️
I'm so glad, Marjorie. Thank you thank you thank you.
This is such a sweet lullaby...
I love these lines, You needn’t cry, / unless you must."
Thanks, Corie! Thanks for recognizing one of the dualities of parenting: that we want our kids to feel good as much as possible, but we need to give them space and permission to feel every feeling.
Beautiful rhythm in this piece…
Thank you for the big compliment, Brian! What an honor to have your eyes on my work.
Reading this poem feels like being rocked.
Thanks for reading, LeeAnn!
I love this:
“You told me
you were star dust and I
feel your restless wriggles
as you fiercely pulse your pacifier”
I know very well you know exactly what I'm talking about here, Margaret. Thank you so much for being here.
What a gorgeous poem. Great recitation as well.
Thank you for reading and listening! Sound is one of my great loves in life, and I'm just chuffed to hear that you appreciated my reading of it.
Absolutely beautiful.
Thanks, Maureen!
I love the idea of “receding into being.” Letting all the things we cling to and just return to being here. As per usual, beautiful words!
Thank you so much, Will! That phrase was one of those that just dumped right out of my mind/fingers, without much idea of what it meant, until later. This is one of my favorite things about rhyme/assonance/alliteration/other-acoustic-treats: they have a way of appearing first and then explaining themselves later, if ever. (And, my favorite, when a reader points out a level of meaning I'd never see before!)