Tuesday, December 15, 2009

on the first day

She slips into the intersection, small daughter’s hand cradled in her own, packages slung over the other arm

lights flash, some commotion mid-street as two large hoodie-garbed men press a third, smaller man into an unmarked car, several friends pressing close, small commotion, muffled voices, small sound

the man smashes the window, raining blue crystal over the icy street and the big cop’s face rolls into a silent curse then flashes back smooth and calm

and she presses the little one’s hand tight, steering her carefully away, across to the other side of the street, the promise of gifts hanging over one arm, blocking the sight


Rachel Westfall
December 15, 2009

8 comments:

Karen said...

If only we could protect our children from the ugliness in the world!

Rikkij said...

A tree grows in Brooklyn. ya know, it makes me wonder why "Cops" is so popular. It's bad enough to know it exists without inhaling deeply. Take care, Rach~rick

christopher said...

This Plaid Scarf

You protected me
from this mudhole, this green slime.
You gave me these shoes,
this coat, this plaid scarf
I drape and tie around me,
around my bare neck.
You told me not to
look, hear, sense the truth of this
Fetid old story.
But you couldn't stop
me for all those gifts, even
now I still know it.

RachelW said...

Oh, Christopher. That's just lovely. You've taken my breath away, again. :)

Rick and Karen, thank you, and yes! I agree wholeheartedly.

namingconstellations said...

Still, uncomfortable as the experience may have been, you've found a way to bring it to life with words and make it something interesting to look at...

Julie said...

As always, your poems are right on with the truths of life, Rachel. Last year, four evil men nearly killed my brother while he was hanging Christmas lights with his son in their own front yard. What a screwed up world. We tried so hard to shield the children in the family from the ugliness of the event and the pain and struggle after the incident.

Your poem makes me think of that...how the mother holds the child's hand and tries to hide the sight of the ugliness with the packages. That is a very powerful image. And the dark irony of holiday time versus the real evil that still goes on in the world is very true. Excellent poem.

Catvibe said...

A giant juxtaposition! And what better way to make some sense of it than to write something that transcends it. Oh, to protect the little ones from this big bad world...

Cherie/ Butterfly Dreamer said...

I would like to protect myself from the ugliness of the world sometimes...