Tell me a story…
Muvva, tell me some stories.
The sensitive child
Vying for attention
Repeatedly requests
She
Perched on a kitchen chair
Rusty gold, old and trusted feline
Tapping tapping
At the spirits in the hem of her robe
Hastily draped over her knee
Unexpected guest
To view the new arrival
The alteration in the pitch and tone of
Her voice tries to bring order to
The chaos of cackling children.
There is joy. JOY!
Marching orders administered:
Don’t mess up that room!
And ignored.
The child offers comfort:
Don’t worry, Muvva, I’ll help you…
I’ll help you clean up…
I’ll buy you a house.
Amused, she chuckles, caringly
Absolves the child in her reply:
That’s OK.
Child
Defiant
Happily vows
To do it anyway
Conversations between generations
At the kitchen table
Alchemy and affirmations bring
The childless father
To this place
Centered focused satisfied
Receiving the Universe’s blessings
Delivered by angels
Nestled on his shoulders
Spirits jump across
Threads of time
This the second decade virus
Once benign at 203
Turns malignant at 189
No cause for alarm
Legacies left in writings on walls
In whispered phrases
Parenting, parenting
All over the place.
The mother: Child, I have secrets to tell.
The son: I’m listening.
Throughout the exchange they realize
They both feel the same way about
Libraries
Churches
Trees
Within each is stored secrets
And lessons learned
Life and death and rituals
The irony
We two the mother the son
Listen and wait
For the echoes in trees
Gnarled, weather-worn
Branches holding spirits
Let us touch you so you can talk to us
The mother expresses her joy
In watercolors
The son
In poetry
The mother: You’re my angel!
The son: I’m just trying to earn my wings.
Computer screensavers record their mantras:
Sheila, take back your power…
Michael, remember the possibilities…
One spring afternoon the son asks:
How do you bounce back so often? What’s your secret?
The mother replies:
I just love waking up in the morning
Just seeing a new day
Listening to the birds sing and
Looking at the trees.
The son smiles.
© B.Michael Hunter 2000
Earlier versions of his poem, with annotations from circa six months before he died.