O.P.P (Other people's poetry)
Hilda is a remarkable poet, who tends to keep her poetry and musings to herself (even though I beg her to share her little online journal).
We had a lot of great, frank, discussions over the weekend. She wrote me a poem last week, and I asked if I could post it. She said fine.
And after a Saturday conversation, I told her that the poem was as much about her journey as my own. And here's Hilda's poem:
One October from Now, 10-10-07
It's my first and second October Anniversary,
and I'm back in the swing of things,
momentum continues to build,
moving me forward,
not backwards, finally.
And in his dark eyes,
I see the sadness,
the unsteadiness,
that was me,
only one October ago.
He's restless,
uncertain,
terrified of his future.
And so I attempt to nudge,
pull,
push him
forward,
one painful,
unsteadying
step at a time.
I promise him, daily,
it will be better,
that the grass really will
be greener,
one October from now.
We had a lot of great, frank, discussions over the weekend. She wrote me a poem last week, and I asked if I could post it. She said fine.
And after a Saturday conversation, I told her that the poem was as much about her journey as my own. And here's Hilda's poem:
One October from Now, 10-10-07
It's my first and second October Anniversary,
and I'm back in the swing of things,
momentum continues to build,
moving me forward,
not backwards, finally.
And in his dark eyes,
I see the sadness,
the unsteadiness,
that was me,
only one October ago.
He's restless,
uncertain,
terrified of his future.
And so I attempt to nudge,
pull,
push him
forward,
one painful,
unsteadying
step at a time.
I promise him, daily,
it will be better,
that the grass really will
be greener,
one October from now.
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