This poem by JD DeHart reminds me of times when I wanted to shield my parents from illness as they once shielded me from life's dangers, and yet, I knew this was not, is not, "the way." Despite the melancholy we feel at coming to terms with what can and cannot be, this poem also reminds me that we can also feel deep gratitude for the stretches of time we do have with loved ones. As a teacher once told me, "Regret is necessary; so, also if fulfillment."
|Ysabel de la Rosa|
by JD DeHart
Over the phone, I heard the sounds
I knew I would hear and yet was
not prepared to hear. I could detect
the age and pain in her voice.
I was born to be a soft cushion
And found that her bones were striking
the rough places of life.
And there was nothing I could do
except listen and offer brief love,
thinking: this is the way of matter,
this is the way of living and dying.
JD's brief bio and work also appear here.
Poem copyright, JD DeHart, all rights reserved.