Friday, 6 June 2014

Babysitter, from Cradle to Grave

Should mind or spirit taking turns to rock the body in nature’s makeshift cradle at any given moment in time get carried away by life’s anxieties and threaten to tip us out, we can but trust the other to find a way to break our fall


child eyes privy to the world’s
home truths

Light shade,
left babysitting a moth’s need
for reassurance

Door slams,
rocks the cradle. Bully at large,
(Oh, but where?)

Moth and child
losing faith in any sure certainty
sent into free fall

makes a catch, applies wrappings
of make-believe

Bully, spotted
riding a pale horse into obscurity

Moth, goes free
once someone happens by and by,
turns the light off

blank pages indulging a penchant
for denial

Peace (of sorts)
rocking our insecurities from cradle
to grave

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2014

[Note: A slightly different version of this poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]

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