Writer's Tree

As a writer with each endeavor I grow and my branches spread to encompass the world.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Changing of the Guard

It is a really interesting experience when you become older as a parent. Your need to direct and guide the lives of your children diminishes and their belief that you need to be directed and guided increases. Some of this I believe comes from the fact that you are all now adults and if you have a strong and mature relationship with your children you will begin to relate as adults rather than child and parent.

Slowly you notice their concern and they begin to refer to your age and if you are not careful you will become the child and they the parent. One area that this has been very noticeable is the area of dating. It was very entertaining to have dates and see the reactions of my sons as I left the house with men. This is just a little writing that was inspired by the changing of the guard so to speak.

Changing of the Guard

I am greeted by your face, sullen and grave.
Your eyes of suspect keeping diligent watch
During practiced rituals, preparations of the night.
Your toes tapping with the slow tick of time
as I am interrogated about my anticipated return,
admonished, to keep a tight rein on my desire.

In times past, it was I who feared that your desire
would indeed bring me to an early grave.
I, the gatekeeper anxiously awaiting your return.
The matriarch, keeping the ever faithful watch,
my toes tapping with the slow tick of time
till my young charge returned from the night.

Other times, it was I who cried, all through the night.
To see the sparkle missing from your eyes was my only desire.
My heart loudly beating with the slow tick of time
in an atmosphere heavy, sullen, and grave.
I who would sing to you, who would pray, and watch,
waiting for the rosy bloom in your cheeks to return.

And it was I, who prayed diligently for my shape to return
after having struggled through the pain, through the night.
Your father, an onlooker, responsible only to wait and watch
as I birthed the fruit of our shared passion and desire.
I grunted and pushed, proclaiming him deserving of an early grave,
until that moment when I saw your face for the very first time.

It was your father, who courted me once upon a time,
promising to love me with a love I vowed to return.
A love we believed strong enough to carry us to the grave.
Love we cherished, and celebrated long into the sweet nights.
Sweet nights of passion, intensity and delicious desire
yet, somehow love escaped us on some late night’s watch.

So for a time, I did not partake but only waited, kept watch
my toes barely tapping with the slow tick of time.
The slow tick of years spent hoping for dormant desire
to seek me, to find me, to awaken and return
that I might again dance the dance of delicious night.
A night with passion found and revived from its grave.

Now keep guard, if you must, watch and wait my return
your toes tapping out time as I search for my knight.
For I’ll not again rein desire, till I rest in my grave.

Conni Struss Johnson©

3 Comments:

Anonymous Jen Eslinger said...

I really love your style, Conni!

11:05 AM  
Anonymous lauree said...

Conni, you are so talented!

1:48 PM  
Anonymous lauree said...

Conni, you are so talented!

1:48 PM  

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