Poem – The Other

It’s gone. The other took it.

I turn the TV off.
Move a few toys

This is the only place I have to be me

Thank you God.

My son wakes up every morning
I get to see him laugh when I enter his room.
I pluck him from his crib. I love this.

I bring him downstairs, step over the playpen wall, put him down.
He runs to the couch and bounces onto it.

In this room, with my son and his toys, I am here. Only here.

My son has a slide in the playpen area. Which, is our living room.
His mother got it for him. And maybe for me too.

Have you ever seen a crying angel in cement?
When the other comes we know we have and we weep.

 

-M. Taggart

 

Originally written on 6/5/17. This poem is personal.