William Morris Meredith Jr.
What it must be like to be an angel
or a squirrel, we can imagine sooner.
The last time we go to bed good,
they are there, lying about darkness.
They dandle us once too often,
these friends who become our enemies.
Suddenly one day, their juniors
are as old as we yearn to be.
They get wrinkles where it is better
smooth, odd coughs, and smells.
It is grotesque how they go on
loving us, we go on loving them
The effrontery, barely imaginable,
of having caused us.And of how.
Their lives: surely
we can do better than that.
This goes on for a long time.Everything
they do is wrong, and the worst thing,
they all do it, is to die,
taking with them the last explanation,
how we came out of the wet sea
or wherever they got us from,
taking the last link
of that chain with them.
Father, mother, we cry, wrinkling,
to our uncomprehending children and grandchildren.
William Morris Meredith Jr.'s Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Parents by William Morris Meredith Jr. )
- Angel's fear, gulsher JOHN
- when i loved you and you loved her and s.., Mandolyn ...
- LOve is replaced, hasmukh amathalal
- The lonely wolf, denise nixon
- He Sleeps Too Much, Jena Crowe
- Halloween Night, Neela Nath
- The Power Of Faith!, Tom Zart
- Desacralized..., Dorothy Kardas, Psy.D. Th.D.
- Pay attention, gajanan mishra
- The Sun Has Collapsed, Naveed Akram
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