I spent the weekend and most of this morning writing my post and poem to tie into the theme of the picture book I reviewed last Friday of Sonya’s Chickens by Phoebe Wahl, which delves into loss and recovery. No part of writing my blog brought me joy, and the words of my poem broke me. I spent over an hour debating whether or not to share my thoughts. I mulled over the feelings of death others have shared with me, including the chapter in Kahlil Gibran’s book from 1923, The Prophet. I arrived at a simple discovery.
The views people have on this topic are different from mine. (Not good or bad, just different.)
I read my post to my daughter who said, “Mom, people come to your blog to feel happy. They’re going to leave today in shock. What you wrote is beautiful, but it’s also dark.”
I started again. The world is currently dishing out plenty of ways to feel angry and depressed. The last thing I wish to do is contribute to sadness. Because we each deserve happiness, I paged through my collection of poems and chose one to share with you that I wrote to my daughter.
WHAT I LOVE
I love laughing while we sing a song,
not caring if our words are wrong,
making tents to play inside,
offering hugs with arms out wide.
laying out beneath the stars,
grateful for the love that’s ours,
reading chapters from a book,
a funny story—comic look,
holding hands to take a walk,
sharing feelings when we talk,
bedtime poems, I write for you,
the love that holds us strong as glue.
by Leslie Leibhardt Goodman
See you next Friday
Leslie
Leslie Leibhardt Goodman 