Notes About The Poem
This expression follows a familiar life-cycle through imagery seeking reassurance: life’s chaos and small failures are held within an arc of love that persists beyond death. The paradox is being both distant and near—legacy and affection remain active through generations.
The Distant Near
A tiny seed in blankets deep,
With secrets that the angels keep.
The first sweet gummy smile appears,
To chase away a parent’s fears.
The "waddle-walk" on kitchen tiles,
And chocolate faces, messy smiles;
A world where cardboard boxes fly,
And stars are caught in jars nearby.
Then comes the storm of teenage years,
Of slamming doors and hidden tears.
But through the fog, a "puppy love"—
A gift sent from the skies above.
The static hum of a late-night call,
Shadows stretched against the wall,
The gasoline scent of a first new car,
Chasing the light of a distant star.
Young adulthood brings the test,
Of leaving home, the empty nest.
The trials of rent and long, hard days,
To find your feet in city haze.
Then comes the shift, a quiet change,
Where roles we knew begin to range;
No longer just the child at play,
You build the magic, lead the way.
Then adult life arrives in full,
With gravity and a steady pull.
The Good is found in quiet bread,
In prayers whispered o’er a sleeping head.
The Bad is a debt that’s never paid,
And the Indifferent is the dust where dreams were laid.
Mid-life brings a deeper hue,
Of skies that turn a darker blue.
The bittersweet and heavy part,
Of holding joy within the heart.
For children grow and take their flight,
While grandchildren bring back the light;
With gardens planted, seeds of thought,
And wisdom to the neighbors brought.
Now silver threads and creaking knees,
Like moss upon the ancient trees.
The body yields, a slower pace,
But leaves a light upon the face.
The graying hair and weathered skin,
Where all the stories of the years begin.
With wisdom as a walking cane,
You find the sun within the rain.
A sage now stands where once a child
Ran barefoot, curious and all too wild.
With stories etched in every line,
And memories like a finely aged wine.
The journey ends where it began,
Within the grace of life’s great plan—
A circle closed, a spirit free,
The beauty of the legacy.
And when the candle flickers low,
To join the wind and homeward go,
I do not vanish, lost to night,
But step behind a veil of light.
I’ll watch you from a distant near,
To catch each laugh and dry each tear,
With eyes that shine and heart that’s true,
Still smiling down in love at you.
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