to feel as safe
as when sleeping
on the back seat
of the family car
gliding silently
through the dark night
heading home
children
parenting
sitting in the café
my morning ritual
a child of six
wanders up to the bar
tattoos on both arms
a balloon in hand
parenting I think
in need of repair
my hope for these children: on Children’s Day here in Turkey, for children in the world
they look with eyes
that see beyond my vision
with hearts more open
with purpose more true
without the doubts
to weigh upon them
without the sorrow
heavy on their shoulders
without remorse
in their very bones
this is my hope
for these children
of the future
embracing a world
cleaner, brighter
elusive to me
The Children: after Patrick Kavanagh by Robert Creeley
Down on the sidewalk recurrent
children’s forms, reds, greens,
walking along with the watching
elders not their own.
It’s winter, grows colder and colder.
How to play today without sun?
Will summer, gone, come again?
Will I only grow older and older?
Not wise enough yet to know
you’re only here at all
as the wind blows, now
as the fire burns low.
Leonard Durso 