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Carol Sanders Poem
He was so round and chubby, with sturdy little legs,
Big brown eyes and silky black hair.
He came into this world eager to take on all challenges:
Life was an adventure!
He followed me around, always underfoot.
Big eyes would seek my attention, my approval.
He ran, he chased balls, he tumbled.
THe great outdoors beckoned him, and dirty footprints covered my
kitchen floor.
He yipped with delight, howled with sadness, made staccato demands.
Then little by little,
So quietly I hardly noticed,
Changes occurred.
THe chubby little body began to be sleek and lithe.
It elongated, the legs stretching out.
THe big brown eyes became watchful, wary.
Gone was the awkward, stumbling run.
He ran with grace, with such speed.
Great, slow stretches replaced the eager reaching.
He now roared with ferocity, demanding the world take note
Of this new male in the territory.
THe confidence, the aloofness; so different now.
My son, my sweet puppy of a child,
Grown into a catlike man
Independent of me.
Yet sometimes, the puppy returns,
ANd lays his head in my lap,
And looks at me with those big brown eyes
That still melt my heart.
Copyright © Carol Sanders | Year Posted 2005
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Carol Sanders Poem
A woman died today. She drove her car into a tree and died. And we mourned for her, four strangers in the rain.
Elephants will encircle their dead and mourn. A goose will leave the flock to tend to a member who is sick or injured. And so we stood in the rain, four strangers to her. We protected her from prying eyes, we maintained her dignity through privacy.
I didn't know her in life; I met her through death. Her hand rested casually on her leg, as if ready to gesture. A hand that could be expressive, beautiful. She had two blue Bic pens holding the bun together in her hair,a light, frivolous note. "I know who I am, I can use pens in my hair, it doesn't diminish me."
Somewhere tonight a family can't sleep, their loss still too new. I can't sleep; I feel diminished and enriched. I prayed for her as we stood there in the rain, I prayed for her journey. I told her we were watching out for her, we were tending to her. We knew she had no pulse; she still had a human bond to us. She deserved our concern, she deserved someone with her as she passed from one life into another. We were there, four strangers in the rain, to care.
We stood, quietly, mourning. Four strangers in the rain.
Copyright © Carol Sanders | Year Posted 2005
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Carol Sanders Poem
Four moons rise in December,
Cold, hard, white,
Small, red, warm,
Early morning after long night,
Far away Korea bleeds,
Betty's brown eyes hating Nick's blue.
Copyright © Carol Sanders | Year Posted 2005
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