Tell me again, will you?

flame

I missed another promise that I promised this time I’d keep.
The subjective implication of this
is matched only by the objective hook
that snags you as you pass it by:
it’s not the bleeding that ages you, it’s the scars;
think of sand put through the fire—eventually you become clear glass
but too fragile to hold on to when made.

So hold me,
just hold me—for a second will do. Hold me as if to say
You do not have to break and I will never let you go.
So that when I do, and you don’t (as I will and you won’t
and that is the simple truth of it)
I’ll have that long trail of hooks and snags
and little drops of blood that I let joyously fall
(flung, really,
cast out like little mendicants with their tiny beggar bowls held high)
to find my way back to you, again.
Tired, I think, smiling,
I’m just tired.
Smiling.

up

Life is a journey and a long one. We are not, I hope, judged too generously on our few perfect moments, nor too harshly on our many failed moments, but mostly on our persistence to keep trying in the moments in between.

We should bring ourselves to account each day, but not to identify our failures—that’s corrosive. Rather, to value the good moments and the successes of the day, to cherish them and be thankful for them. Everything else, bundle up and pass off, asking God for His support and mercy. Life is about persistence, not perfection.

Thank you for reading Tell me again, will you? I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.

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4 Comments

Filed under Poetry

4 responses to “Tell me again, will you?

  1. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep a promise,don’t you think? Most enjoyable read, again.

    For some, life is long enough to make a mark on the earth. There is so much to learn from failures, tho, that’s how I think.

  2. Seriously, there is no flattery here … My head spinned a bit, and my heart settled in a good way. This poem is something I really enjoyed. Am I right in that not all your poems have a rhythm? But this is another one with this rhythm thing. But, I am willing to admit my ignorance if all poems have rhythm, and I don’t know what I am talking about … Here is some of what stands out: “I missed another promise that I promised this time I’d keep …”; “So that when I do, and you don’t (as I will and you won’t
    and that is the simple truth of it) …”. And then your comment after the poem resonates with a seasoned, experiential, stabilizing affect: “Life is a journey and a long one. We are not, I hope, judged too generously on our few perfect moments, nor too harshly on our many failed moments, but mostly on our persistence to keep trying in the moments in between.” Okay, one more thing. Thanks for visiting my blog, and I agree Paul was a wildman, when it came to writing. The boy wrote in a way that on one can be compared to. He was roughed up pretty good for his writing. Later. T

    • T, thank you for your kind comments! Sadly, you are correct, not all my poems have a strong rhythm, although I think the best ones have a strong one! 🙂 It’s actually quite funny, if I had to pick three phrases off of that page that are the ones to be most proud of, I think you have chosen the exact three I would have. By the way, I am growing very, very fond of your concept of a wildman. I may steal it yet!