They Are All My Children Part I

Each poem I birth Is a child of my heart Flesh of my flesh Bone of my bone Word of my soul Conveyor of my emotions Each one is unique Different…. One is always happy And sees the bright side of life The eternal optimist With not a care in the world With a song on her lips She traipses about and everywhere she goes Flowers bloom And the sun peeks out To welcome her The other is intimately acquainted With her mother’s world Of suffocating despair She sees the tear behind the smile The insecurity behind the laugh Her loneliness This child of my is consumed by worry That Mama may go through with it this time And no longer be there to love her She quietly watches Her daily fight for survival For escape From the demons that haunt her life And so…she bears her sorrow Trying to be strong for MAMA Her tears she hides as she cries in the closet Knowing its Mama’s tears in her eyes And Mama’s pain in her heart I love this child of mine, for she sees what no one else sees One of my children was conceived in frenzied passion And she is its embodiment She devours life Her passion relishes Life Love Nature Friends She is intense to the point of insanity Those who know her are electrified by her presence For she is…. Always endearing Always charming Always in love Always flirting...teasing...pleasing Always passionate….to the point of losing herself In the moment My little one….ah, my little one is a romantic dreamer Her eyes never focus on the here and now She perches on the windowsill Seeing her castle in the distance Waiting for her knight in shining army To sweep her away on his gallant steed With flowing mane And thundering hoofs Matching the thundering beat of her heart She waits to be whisked to A forever land of dreams Of flowers and sunshine Of birds chirping by streams And love better than in the world she’s seen Oh, but my eldest How my heart bleeds For my child of wrath Born of my affair with Zeus Sending out thunderbolts Livid by injustice Seething with anger At all that is inhumane Welding his sword Eager for revenge For retribution I fear for this my child Who often is about to draw blood In mortal combat with the enemy Ever at the point of death... (End of Part I) Eileen Manassian Ghali