Last week I was honored with comments on my first Poetry Friday post. So of course I had to come back. Thank you, thank you! A whole new world has opened up for me. And thank you Katya Czaja. at Write. Sketch. Repeat. for hosting this week’s posts.
I have been participating on the periphery of Chris Lehman’s Teacher Poets workshop. His lessons, the poets, the poems, and the workshopping has been wonderful. This week’s “assignment” can be found here. Hop over and check it out.
The lesson is “Concrete the Concept” which works for what I’ve been mucking around with. It’s something that (Chris’ prompt) “I have been thinking a lot about…”.
I”m sitting on the other side of my children’s childhood. A place that I have been struggling to figure out, and probably will continue to as it keeps changing.
Just Watch
When will I get it right?
Every child, starts out so frightening, exciting, overwhelming
and then momentarily I think, yes…
Sounds fill the kitchen, the house, and I orchestrate the action, all is in my control
until it’s not.
And the Gods laugh at my audacity, “You think you got this?” Just watch.
I’m left wondering, what’s next?
I sit up close, a front row seat involved in the goings on, then
my presence is unwanted,
so I stand back and just watch.
Shifts from may I, to notification
I hold in judgement, hoping for a subtle impact
feeling divorced from the proceedings
choices are no longer mine to make. Just watch.
They’re out the door, a photo flash resides in their place.
Vulnerable, smiling in those hallway pictures,
no history of a toy strewn living room
of willful moments of two-year old selves.
All of a sudden
the phone call with success
the “what do you think?”
the “I just wanted to tell you”
Still vulnerable packed in their near-grown up selves.
And I’m left wondering, what’s next?
Just watch.
To Read To Write To Be 
[…] at To Read To Write To Be has an original poem about parenthood inspired by this week’s Teacher Poets […]
Thanks for this! I’m reaching that stage myself in parenting. Scary!
This is what we’ve been preparing them for:
“Shifts from may I, to notification
I hold in judgement, hoping for a subtle impact
feeling divorced from the proceedings
choices are no longer mine to make. Just watch.”
The thing is, we ourselves never seem to be prepared! Great poem, Julieanne – and how wonderful to have you along for Poetry Friday!
Julieanne,
Thanks for sharing your “I have been thinking a lot about. . .”
This has been one of those weeks when it has seemed like there has been no time to break the surface and come up for air!
I love this. . .
“Still vulnerable packed in their near-grown up selves.
And I’m left wondering, what’s next?
Just watch.”
I think it applies to myself, my siblings, my friends, my son and his wife, the granddaughter, and . . .. . Thanks for both the problem – what’s next? and the solution – no rush, just watch!
“Just watch” describes so well how to handle that wonderful, mysterious and sometimes terrifying journey of parenthood. Found your poem resonating with me at many stages.
Love the repeated “just watch”, Julieanne. In a sense, even from the beginning, it’s been that, hasn’t it? I remember more than anything in the later years, just as I was preparing to go to bed, the teen coming down stairs and saying, “Mom, I need to talk”. In addition to ‘just watch’, also, ‘just wait’. I love “Shifts from may I, to notification”-so right. Best to you in the changes.
Hi there Julieanne, welcome once again to Poetry Friday. I have a 12 year old girl, and bits and pieces of what you share here resonate with me. The ‘Just Watch’ can come across as both a warning and a resigned sigh with bits of an ‘i told you so’ and loving waitfulness thrown into the mix. 🙂
You seem to have rung a bell with everyone! The “Shifts from may I, to notification” are tricky, aren’t they? Watching is the best course of action at times like these.
We always think we’ve got things figured out…but then the rules change!
Julieanne,
Oh, the gods and their laughter. Sometimes I just wonder where all the time as gone. It seems we went from 5 to 18 in a blink. Your poem speaks tough truths right to the end.
Cathy