P’ease Pick Me Up

  “Amma, p’ease pick me up,” pleads Adaline.

But I must say,

“Can’t do it, my sweet girl.

Do you want to climb up on the couch and we can

eat some blueberries?”

F–k, I say in my head.

God help me.

Give me

hands, my hands that work.

I am Amma,

just as I am.

Kristin needs help.  She doesn’t ask.

Loss.

Love.

Maggie I can still pick up,

now, today.

Oh, please, will someone give me Atticus?

Quit trying?  Never, not ever.

Relaxation and

recuperation, they come later.

Stephanie worries.

She sees me struggle.

Tuesday I will play with them

under the trees outside.

Voices will sing and we will laugh.

Wednesday I will rest and maybe hurt.

X-rays of my hands and wrists and spine

yell at me to be careful.

Zebras at the zoo?  Let’s go!

(This is an alpha-poem (look at the first letter of each line) started during a workshop titled “Writing Through Grief and Loss” led by Ray McGinnis, author of Writing the Sacred)

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Published in: on February 5, 2013 at 1:59 pm  Comments (11)  
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11 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. wOw! and thanks…

    • You’re welcome. And thanks for always reading.

  2. Robin if I could I would in a heart beat give you my hands and arms and my strenght so you could pick up and play with your grand children with out having to worry about having any pain.

    • Bless you and thank you, Barb. You keep your arms and strength for your sweet grandchildren, okay?

      • They are getting big, they could pick me up…..but we do have one on the way..due in July.

  3. Cool poem! I like the alpha structure and the tone of the subject.

    • The ABC thing was a challenge, but fun. Glad you liked it, Donna.

  4. My hands are tricky too–too much typing, nerves that are pinched by close-together ribs. Hands are right up there with eyes when it comes to being necessary. Fortunately, grandchildren will love you for what you are, not wish for what you aren’t. Keep on singing!

    • You are so right about hands being as important as eyes. I have to keep reminding myself that my grandchildren know me no other way. I’m so sorry your hands pain you.

  5. I didn’t notice the alpha structure until you pointed it out — the mark of a good poem, that the meaning takes precedence. (I hope you get better!)

    • Thanks, Susan. That was my 1st alpha-poem. It was more fun and easier than I expected. I am feeling better,thanks.


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