Miscellaneous:

[Benny]

Occupied by the dancing dust
held in the bright rays
of a sun afraid to enter,
his smile has been frozen
for the whole of the day.
I have prayed for rays myself-
some ray of hope-
that suddenly I could touch
the center of his attention;
cradling my baby now
of fourth-three,
his smile never moving
nor will he remove hands
stirring the floating dust
before his beautiful eyes.
He is far safer than I, they say;
an alien adrift on a pre-heaven cloud.
When I am gone, then what?
Will you love him this deeply?
Can you?
No, pity will not carry him.
Come, play with us
where dust dances
across pieces of
a broken heart.

[erikestabrook]

very emotional subject here and
its weird because you made emotional questions
loose their emotion though,
I like the premise of this poem and the imagery it captured

[zaac]

i'm not sure what this was about, but its very pretty. i know its about a child, but wasnt quite sure what you were sayin. can you clue an old man in?

zaac

[Intricate soul]

I often see those who are not... "Normal" or "Special" in our world, and often wonder what happens to them when that dedicated parent or sibling leaves this world, that one person who cares and understands him/her. What then is their fate? Sounds like you have too.

The mood feels like a fist loosing its grip...I am in awe. Thank you

Intricate Soul

[MsJacquiiC]

The Following Text Is Quoted:

When I am gone, then what?
Will you love him this deeply?
Can you?
No, pity will not carry him.
Come, play with us
where dust dances
across pieces of
a broken heart.

Hey BENNY this poem has some bittersweet type of feel to it... Like you have acknowledged being part of a horrid place "where dust dances across pieces of a broken heart" - but then you're not quite ready to let go of this place, as to move on to other...

Anyway - quite complex piece of writing - I like the language of this piece though - You've done some intricate word-weaving...

The Following Text Is Quoted:

cradling my baby now
of fourth-three,
his smile never moving
nor will he remove hands
stirring the floating dust
before his beautiful eyes.

Perplexing really - what does this mean?
Thanx for the sharing just the same

Jacquii.

[Benny]

I was but four years old when my father gathered up Mom and us three kids to go 'up home' to Eastern Kentucky to visit his parents and siblings. Nothing he could have said to us to prepare us for that trip would have helped at all. We were poor, but what I saw put a brand new meaning to that word for me.
One Aunt I remember visiting lived in an old barn...at least that is what it seemed to me to be, like our own at home. The walls were covered with newspapers...many layers of them...and you could still see through the cracks easily. My Aunt was about 60 and the oldest of the living children. She had raised six kids in that old house. One she was still raising. She was 43 and had never left that house in all her life. She had some form of Down's Syndrome. She never talked, but a wide smile was planted on her face at all times, even as she slept. She did one of two things everytime I was visiting...either playing with the dust as the sun rays lit it up through a window or she was busily putting together a puzzle. She could put the most intricate puzzles together in a matter of only minutes...no matter how wild we would scatter the pieces! Yet, that was all her life was. I remember her mother just holding her and it did not seem to matter, nor take away her intention to play with the dust as it floated and danced before her eyes. It was if no one else was in that room with her...ever. Just her and the dust or a puzzle. She never acknowledged anyone, not even her mother.
I guess that picture has stuck with me for many years now. I even visited my Aunt many years later after I had my own children and always brough puzzles to my first cousin, as my mother and father always had before me. My very old Aunt still would attempt to hold her child and I am sure she prayed many times that her child would someday let her know in some way that she knew how much she was loved. Some things never leave a person...I guess this never left me.