Departures

Cherry

By Philip Sidney

Mon, 04 Aug 2014
  • 2979 reads
7 comments
 

It is still dark.

The black eyed baby

slumps in your arms,

accepting she has no control.

Time to go.

 

We wait in the queue,

between anxiety

and regret.

Sleepy children,

crumpled adults,

still stumbling from their beds.

 

The artificial light

does not brighten those

checking  passports,

weighing  bags - too heavy

with gifts and memories.

 

She slips into sleep in your arms,

as once you did in mine, so long ago.

 

The red bag with her comforters,

inevitably passed to you -  at the barrier.

It is time to go.

 

Certificate PG
Poem

Comments

Submitted by scratch on

Philip this is another beauty.  Assured, confident choice if words.  Images very good and not over indulgent.  

I think it to be really good.

 

Submitted by scratch on

Cherries too!  Someone else must like it.

 

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you for your positive encouragement!  How the cherries come to be there is a bit of a mystery to me, but any sign that someone is reading, and even better, liking, is the best feeling.  Thank you to whoever gives the cherries for mine!

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks Parson Thru! 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

It's interesting how writing is read differently by readers with a different context, this is quite a personal, poignant poem for me, but why would that be the case for anyone else? 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Philip,

Great poem.

I hadn't read this before, but as I was reading the comments, I wondered if some of the others had missed the subtext. I thought it was a really  difficult trip - maybe a daughter who had married someone from another country who had come home to visit and show off her child and was now going back but not with anticipation, and not really wanting to leave.  Certainly the parent didn't want them to leave.

Having left my country to marry someone from abroad, I know how difficult it was for my family to see me go, and felt guilty that I was so glad to leave.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

This is exactly where this poem came from.  Saying goodbye to my daughter and granddaughter.  If you've done it you know the feeling.  I quite like that it can be read in different ways too.