There were days that even Judy had the Blues.
But there are days when all lost souls do...

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Mary's Child

There must have been
Some days when she forgot,
When the child was only a child—
Not that epiphanal flash sprung forth
Like an arrow from the bow of God,
But only a plodding child
With an affinity for dirt.

She must have stood
Some days in the doorway
Concerned with his mortal hurts,
Watching with a mother's eye
As his naked feet went pounding,
Sounding with a child's quick beat,
Through hard and narrow earthbound streets.

There must have been
Those days when she forgot,
But soon she would remember
And know it every day
That each passing day he became
More and more like an arrow
Returning to the heart of God.

rcs.

4th draft: 08/12/01
©1980 Ronald C. Southern

6 comments:

Mushy said...

That, my friend, is the best you have done...the rhythm of it, the flow, pulls you through without making you stop. The thought is complete and comes full circle.

Thanks...I'll share that will many.

Mushy said...

Damnit! WITH many!

Dustinzgirl said...

Ron, that is absolutely beautiful. It actually hit my wee little heart and almost made me cry.

Well done, and from all I have read, definetly my favorite of yours.

Dustinzgirl said...

PS: I was talking about Mary's Child...I dunno if I hit the right comment button, but seriously, on the second/third time reading it I really teared up a bit. Its awesome.

Ron Southern said...

Ain't it the truth? Anyway, nobody but me is likely to read your comments, but they're nice!

Linda Crowder said...

powerful is truth. I love it, as it speaks to me.

Judy Garland's Blues


Why was Judy Garland sad?
Did she have everything—but not love?
What drove Judy Garland mad,
Or do I give her too much credit?

Was she just privately unlucky, after all the public luck?
Did she have two armfuls of nothing in the worn valises
She dragged into another mansion of expenses, pills, and airs
Amid lost things never declared, forever beyond her reach?

Did she have everything—but not love?
Was she too often left behind as a child
Or was she poisoned in the vein
As by too many drinks or a rattlesnake...

Twisted by some familial demon spirit she became
That Voodoo spirit, the reel and spin, the deadly living blues,
Forever frightened—no matter her age or image or magic—
Of what to choose and what to lose, out of control to the end?

Did she, like you, like me, have everything—
But could not feel the love that others gave
Or stay as brave as needed every moment?

rcs.

Current draft: 4/12/2010
3rd draft: 04/26/05
©2004 Ronald C. Southern br/>
[This is a separate and different title from the blog title.]

Colorful Judy

The Creature


Ron Southern,
Chigger, Texas, USA

Personal Labels:

Clean and easy-going. Dirty-minded, paranoic, catatonic, droll, drastic, dramatic, savage, uptight, dribbling, abstruse, and timid.

Not to even mention artful, artistic, abusive, misleading, abrasive, manipulative, dodgy, sneaky, and totally unforgiving!

How about poetic, pansified, petty, pornographic, always preening, and a little peculiar about what feels good!

The Poem With The Similar Title

©Ronald C. Southern

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