A child fell today;
I think it was here,
Or maybe over there,
Where the dirt is tamped down,
Next to the clean, familiar bench
Where parents sit and watch.
That’s where the child fell.
It could have been
One of those ugly dolls
With missing lashes
And permanent dimples, like stigma.
It could have been a toy
That hits the ground,
Inanimate and soon forgotten.
Instead, with scratched knees and soul
And warm blood treasured inside,
A child fell on a spot
That a shadow covers now.
The print of a hand,
A trace in the face of the earth,
An attempt to stop time
And pull the weight,
Yes pull the weight off those shoulders
Where wings could grow instead.
Soft, strong wings
Must indeed have grown
Because later today,
The child’s body could not be found
And someone left a spotted orchid,
They left it because it made them feel
Like spotless heroes
This poem shows a strength of character; we're taught to get back up again at an early age, but do we? And how often? The ending on this piece is haunting. It reminds me that will and determination can overcome a wounded spirit. Excellent poem!
Sheila
Your thoughts leave one with that grasp of the reality and the ever presence of an underlying thought...when left to the imagination even heroes feel they are spotless and yet life touches all with it's sadness, whether of our own or of the loss of a child unknown even to the one who sits and reads through your poetic views of life and the world caught up with the moment of ...where and waht happened to that child...
So much is fervently flowing into my senses, picturing all you have expressed and then some...here, in a pen that must envision what I am wondering, here on this page, this very "Spot", http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewPoetry.asp?AuthorID=47596...where poetry comes to life! I think of her, the missing child, Caylee Anthony from Orlando, Fl., I think of how all roads lead to the mother...yet, I saw her wearing the Missing Child shirt, "Have you seen Caylee?" Oh...this poem brings out all that truly love children, a hurt, undescribable! As one of sixteen children, from a mother who cherished orchids, I must save your words!
all I can say is...Wow!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
this stays with the reader...strong write........pax A
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis (Reader)
Reviewed on September 16, 2008
There is a strange combination of reverence, sympathy and disdain that rises up and fills my senses - it is an inner angst that results as if I've just been witness to something tragic, something unsettling. Enigmatically, there is a sense of coldness, of detachment here as well.
This is some brilliant writing. There are few poems who i would actually like to read a whole book of their work, but you are one of them. I am not into all the detailed textbook comments, that's what writing groups are for and classes in colleges, but i can tell you that this is incredibly moving because of the amazing, spot-on imagery that you used to evoke just the right memories in the reader. loved it- Michelle
The real, the innocent, the cruel and the spiritual all woven seamlessly here in fine, strong expression. The impact lasts well after the reading ends. Thank you for this, Axilea.
John
Powerful write, Axilea. Mysterious and elliptical, yet striking familiar chords where our feelings for children are concerned. Where little ones are treated harshly, we have an instinct to cover them with protection in whatever way our minds can find, often charging them with angels. Indeed, so "innocent" do we see the spirits of children often that we half believe them to be part angelic in form. I feel both of these unconscious desires rise up in me as I read this - to see that vulnerable, fallen child translated into heaven effortlessly and painlessly, to enjoy a better life. The spotted orchid device is beautiful; so often we crave the child's "purity" for ourselves, almost like a sacrificial lamb. Just one take on a thoughtful and well-developped poem. Both strength and tenderness here. TY Kate xx
The phantom aura of this poem, particularly the second two stanzas, brought to mind a similarly atmospheric Lennon/Ono lyric, 'Who's seen the wind, neither you nor I, but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind goes passing by.'
What matters in any event, is up to the observer. In this poem, the observer does not know all the details, but surmises a child has fallen--imagines wings growing--lifting the child--assumes an orchid was left for a tainted purpose. It is a powerful poem about a powerless neighbor, contemplating an accident--a fallen child, or a lifted angel...
or
maybe the poem is a piece about ambivalence in general--
Is it all an illusion? If we see this all through the poet's eyes, we see ambivalence--imagination--wondering--and a physical orchid, with more assumptions as to why it is there. For sure a child fell--a child always does. For sure someone left an orchid behind--but as to why, we are still undecided. We assume the observer knows. But we do not know for sure. Nothing but the orchid seems certain. “A child fell today” she says. It involves our emotions instantaneously. But what does it mean, “a child fell today?” Fell as in stumbled? Fell as in from a height? Fell as in died? Fell as in succumbed to sin? It’s all ambivalent. The details that follow are not concrete either. But do they need to be? When a child falls, in any of the senses, do the where-when-and why of it matter at all? Was the occurrence actual? Or was it imagined?
After all is said and done, we only are certain of one thing: the spotted orchid. And the observer’s metaphor stands. A poem, we read—a beautiful piece full quiet reverie—imperfect… perhaps left as a token—an appeasement—from someone powerless, who wishes she could do/be more.
--Charlie
Reviewed by E. Farrand (Reader)
Reviewed on September 14, 2008
Hi Axilea,
Very powerful imagery. The handprint, soft strong wings.
The 'orchid left because it made them feel like spotless heroes' I take to mean that the flowers were left by those who wanted to make THEMSELVES feel better.
You have written a masterpiece here, my friend, I truly believe it is one of your best. I really have enjoyed your works.
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
Wow, Axilea, in the calm, quiet way you handle this magnificent
poem there is a powerful impact. The writing is to be envied...
Thank you for this. -gene.
Your verses take the breath of thought away. One must read and read again and feel the meaning intended. Thank you, Axilea. Love and best wishes to you,
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Sheila
nice work Axilea...
Art Sun...
Powerful and very well done!
take care,
William.
all I can say is...Wow!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
John
I especially loved the descriptiveness of the second to the last stanza. And the conclusion...how sad...and yet poignantly thought- provoking.
Cryssa
Only a spotted orchid remains...
Haunting.
Regards
David
or
maybe the poem is a piece about ambivalence in general--
Is it all an illusion? If we see this all through the poet's eyes, we see ambivalence--imagination--wondering--and a physical orchid, with more assumptions as to why it is there. For sure a child fell--a child always does. For sure someone left an orchid behind--but as to why, we are still undecided. We assume the observer knows. But we do not know for sure. Nothing but the orchid seems certain. “A child fell today” she says. It involves our emotions instantaneously. But what does it mean, “a child fell today?” Fell as in stumbled? Fell as in from a height? Fell as in died? Fell as in succumbed to sin? It’s all ambivalent. The details that follow are not concrete either. But do they need to be? When a child falls, in any of the senses, do the where-when-and why of it matter at all? Was the occurrence actual? Or was it imagined?
After all is said and done, we only are certain of one thing: the spotted orchid. And the observer’s metaphor stands. A poem, we read—a beautiful piece full quiet reverie—imperfect… perhaps left as a token—an appeasement—from someone powerless, who wishes she could do/be more.
--Charlie
Very powerful imagery. The handprint, soft strong wings.
The 'orchid left because it made them feel like spotless heroes' I take to mean that the flowers were left by those who wanted to make THEMSELVES feel better.
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
Seamless, faultless, poignant poetry, deftly penned: well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
poem there is a powerful impact. The writing is to be envied...
Thank you for this. -gene.
Regis