Today, two personal items.
I was gladly surprised to see that a poem of mine, “My Brother Lives on the Other Side,” got selected as a finalist at the monthly Goodreads.com poetry contest. If it gets the most votes from readers, it will appear in the newsletter which apparently reaches millions. To be read is perhaps one of the greatest joys of a writer.
I can say I am promoting my own work. I can also say I am trying to reach out to others, perhaps show a perspective that others have not seen before, start a conversation.
One reader asked me what my poem means. I can only say what my poem hopes to mean.
This blog doesn’t have a lot of followers, admittedly. But should you read this – whether it leads you to vote for my poem now, or just happen to read the poem long after 1 December 2012 – I would love to hear from you. Tell me if the poem reached out to you or not. Start a conversation. (I used to just do that practically anywhere with anyone when I am on the road. I miss that. )
It is painful to know that things change no matter where you are. People you love succumb slowly to the ravages of aging. Eyes clouding over. Hearing fades. Sometimes the misfiring of brain cells make you see something that isn’t there, like a group of children who are not yours, not your children’s either, just children you don’t know. You tell them to go away. But they won’t. And those around you feel uneasy. There is nothing there but an empty living room, not a sound from a single child, not a shadow.
My mother, I wish I could hold you in my arms.