The Wildfire of Early Parenthood

My friend Kima Hamilton and his wife Dasha Kelly Hamilton, both poets, spent two weeks in Seward teaching poetry workshops at our middle and high school. While at the middle school, Kima texted me a picture with Elias, along with a poem my son wrote.

"She respects weather changes

Women hard blanket of ice could kill you

Women big chunk of ice is breaking off

And a lot of snow is rolling down fast

Women you hear the bombs go off."

When Kima and I met later in the week for a walk along the waterfront, I asked him about the writing prompt. He told me they ask students to choose a force of nature--avalanche, volcano, earthquake etc,-- and answer questions about their topic of choice.

I don't remember Kima and Dasha's exact list but I imagine the questions help participants fill a page with descriptive phrases that show what a hurricane or tsunami or wildfire looks, feels, and sounds like.

Next they tell the students to replace their force of nature word with the word "women".

This often generates laughter and surprising connections that lead to interesting discussions about gender stereotypes and sexism and the magic of metaphors. Finally, he directs the class to play with the wording, rhythm, and format to create their own unique metaphor poems.

I decided to give it a try, but instead of "women" chose "children". The following poem is the result of my efforts:

The Wildfire of Early Parenthood

Children ignite their surroundings, destroy everything in sight

(Or so it seems)

Children creep into dreams

Tis the season of smoke, ashes, flames, red hot light of change

Children arrive with devouring speed, hungry with needs

Not all survive when the raging infernos arrive

Children, siren calls of the wild, circular pattern of life, natural cycle of devastation

Rife with endings, beginnings, and something in-between

Children simmer, combust, roar, as they explore every angle, jump over barriers

Carriers of environmental shifts

Sometimes carefully plotted and planned, sometimes more adrift

Lightning sparks of surprise

Children rise from containment, set communities ablaze

Lick at our doorsteps, ravage individual towns, burn ambition straight down

Children a force of nature, a source of chaotic light, an almost apocalyptic sight

No longer contained in the wilderness, children leave a trail of destruction in their wake

Dreams dissipate, hopes rise up in smoke

Or so it seems

But…

Cloaked beneath charred earth, roots of possibility remain

For out of the same ash that smolders, behold small green sprouts,

As the soft feathered ferns of a life reimagined slowly, slowly, unfold.

 

Comments

[nancy]

So beautifully written, I so love to read your writings...

[Christy]

Thank you Nancy--you made my day:)