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