I used to hold his hand – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

Your separation started with a small knot, 
then the winding began.

Strings of storybooks, twined through nights
and days of countless fresh starts, repeating circles.

The looping of stories wound through our shared days. Up and down 
on the life school rollercoaster, back when I used to hold your hand.

Our faces in the wind a side by side scream of surprise
moments you reached out, adding to yourself
adding another layer of becoming.

While some saw mangled routes and loose ends 
I envied your brave expanding, overlapping leaps 
of curiosity to solidify your center.

Now you roll down new streets
with layers of perseverance over boyish charm
a masterpiece touching lives I will never meet.

I hope you never stop winding over that small knot,
tied while I watched.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

This poem is dedicated to my two amazing sons. I am grateful to be your mother.

dVerse Open Link Night - Join a welcoming community of poets HERE.

Leaving without him

“i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)”
– E.E. Cummings

Twisted deeply within the realization 
of this being the day of goodbye
A warm sorrow reverberates through my limbs 
down to my heavy steps homeward. 
This is the part of loving wholeheartedly 
that I wish I could skip over. 
When the sunset arrives and takes you with it 
far from where I am.

From the first time I laid eyes on you
your inner charm worked magic on me
a spirit who dared to explore, 
balancing fences, tree limbs, to rooftop scrambles
while others shouted, "There is a kid up there."
You never were the "play it safe" kind.
I knew the someday would come
of releasing you to fly in the wind.

This motherhood thing sucks
just when you've spent 18 years
falling in love with your boy
(even on days when you didn't feel like it)
he turns into a man you adore with your
whole heart proud, filled with keeping.
Just then, it is time to share him
with the world.

It would be greedy of me not to share
but in this moment I don't want to
play by the rules, where sons grow up.
Instead let me rewind; all aches, pains and joys
to live again the rollercoaster of mothering you.
Your journey of magnificent learnings,
dares and caring that accumulate into
you as the tower beside me.

No matter where you walk upon the earth. 
I hope you hear my whispers in your ear,
I carry your heart
I carry it in my heart.

© Ali Grimshaw 2020

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Shadows and reflections

Reflecting on life in photos and words.

Take the First Exit to the Right: A poem for Parents

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As you drive down the road of your day

I see you in a large convertible with your top down,

backseat sandwiched full of children.

In front of you, several large cargo trucks with unsecured loads,

packed quickly without care. The disbelief of it all.

You are following without another lane to change into.

I see you, white knuckled, hold on the steering wheel

as odd boxes and papers, like a flock, fly

toward your windshield to temporarily block your view.

Colliding with objects occasionally airborne.

You swerving with the responsibility of sheltering

your children from harm. All while they chatter

and throw questions at you from the rear seat.

A sensory whirlwind of sounds, movement and colors to navigate

as you drive. I see you seeking the stable horizon with your eyes,

to recenter, as events drop and plans bounce away. Readjusting

in the moment, with care, cussing and sometimes crying. Facing

the cracked windshield of the past week. Hair in your eyes, yet determined

to be all you can for your young ones. Your eyes are heavy with sleep.

I just want you to know that I have an empty garage.

Take the next exit to the right.

Yes, I can, and will shelter you for the night.

© Ali Grimshaw 2020

Dedicated to all of the parents navigating during COVID19. Remember to pull over and take breaks.

dVerse Open Link Night 

World Health Organization – Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) advice for the public: Healthy Parenting

I used to hold his hand – poem by Ali Grimshaw

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Your separation started with a small knot, 
then the winding began.

Strings of storybooks, twined through nights
and days of countless fresh starts, repeating circles.

The looping of stories wound through our shared days. Up and down 
on the life school rollercoaster, back when I used to hold your hand.

Our faces in the wind a side by side scream of surprise
moments you reached out, adding to yourself
adding another layer of becoming.

While some saw mangled routes and loose ends 
I envied your brave expanding, overlapping leaps 
of curiosity to solidify your center.

Now you roll down new streets
with layers of perseverance over boyish charm
a masterpiece touching lives I will never meet.

I hope you never stop winding over that small knot,
tied while I watched.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

This poem is dedicated to my two amazing sons. I am grateful to be your mother.