Rescuing my Mother: Fourth Grade

Monday, March 23, 2009


The teacher's desk is crashing sun.
The teacher's desk is a continent,
floated blue.
I have been told to come.
I have been given the news:
An accident.

Against the rules, I run.
On the ribbon of macadam,
down.
Through the fence gate,
on the wrong side
of the creek,
where in summer we do not
come when called,
but this is spring
or this is autumn,
and I should not have run:
Mom!
Mom!

Alive, and I thought
I’d always save her.

12 comments:

Q said...

This is a door opening on despair, I think.

Sherry said...

Thank you for sharing this poem and the fourth grade you.

Unknown said...

The things we do for love.
This tugs at my heart.

Peace - Rene

Maya Ganesan said...

Oh. This is terribly touching. I do agree with Rene -- it tugs at my heart.

Sherrie Petersen said...

That poem is haunting. Makes me want to know the story behind it...

Emily Ruth said...

And here you had me thinking this was going to be a post that made me smile, what with the adorable picture and all..

But then, I don't really mind giving up a smile for this poem. Q said it perfectly--it really "is a door opening on despair"

Emily Ruth

Priya said...

This made me shiver.

Saints and Spinners said...

This makes me think of my youngest brother. The vividness of the moment, the urgency of making what has happened not have happened through imagining it strongly enough-- that's what I think of.

Anna Lefler said...

Oh, my heart is pounding with worry for you and your mom...even in the past.

XO

Anna

Vivian Mahoney said...

My goodness, Beth. The fourth grade you has reduced me to tears.

Beth Kephart said...

Thank you, you dear readers, you. Q, opening a door on despair, and when that happens, some part of you is forever despairing. How truly put. All of you: You understand.

Jinksy said...

The urge to keep loved ones safe can surface at a vary young age...

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