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Thursday, May 7, 2020

DMC: "Morning Moments" by Rebekah Hoeft




MORNING MOMENTS

 After 49 days,
I’ll welcome the warmth
Of snuggles before the rest wake.

After 49 days,
I’ll listen for clunks
Of ice in the glass for his Coke.

After 49 days,
She’ll sleep in ‘til ten
Then rise and check in with friends.

After 49 days,
In quiet I wait
For my life to wake and begin.

 © 2020 Rebekah Hoeft. All rights reserved.


TLD reader Margaret Simon has challenged us to write a mindful poem about the present moment. Click HERE for more details and to add your poem to the padlet. While some poems will be shared as daily ditties this month, all contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday, May 29th.




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9 comments:

  1. Michelle Heidenrich BarnesMay 7, 2020 at 8:14 AM

    Such an intimate and beautiful poem, Rebekah. Being in limbo is rough. I, too, am trying to get my head around the fact that this IS life right now. Convincing my daughter is another matter entirely.

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    1. Rebekah HoeftMay 7, 2020 at 9:23 AM

      Thanks, Michelle! I think the hardest part is the not knowing how long this will be our normal. So thankful for technology that allows for jobs to be done and connections to be made--I think my girl would be going completely crazy without the ability to shut herself in her room and see and talk to her BFF.

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  2. Linda BMay 7, 2020 at 12:45 PM

    That 'listening' is one habit that has happened to me, too, Rebekah. Your few examples tell all in a 'holding one's breath' way beautifully. I agree, the not knowing is tough, and something I try to ignore!

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    1. Rebekah HoeftMay 7, 2020 at 3:38 PM

      This comment has been removed by the author.

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    2. Rebekah HoeftMay 7, 2020 at 3:42 PM

      Holding one's breath is a great way of putting it. Thanks for reading. :)

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  3. Linda MitchellMay 7, 2020 at 1:36 PM

    I agree with the words, "intimate" and "listening." There is an intimate listening that comes from living with loved ones. That's what make it so painful when we lose someone. We listen for what we've lost. I look forward to getting back to listening to my old life too!

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    1. Rebekah HoeftMay 7, 2020 at 3:41 PM

      That is truth. And the sounds are something to mourn when you leave a place, too. When my dad moved out of the house I grew up in, my siblings and I ran around recording the sounds of the doors shutting and the creak of the stairs. Sounds are definitely inportant, to people and place.

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  4. michelle koganMay 7, 2020 at 8:20 PM

    I like your voice going back and forth between what you are doing and what others around you are doing. I think our waking will be a different beginning–thanks Rebekah.

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  5. Carol VarsalonaMay 7, 2020 at 10:54 PM

    I am thinking about your use of the words "in quiet I wait". Many times, I need to pause and wait tucked away in a quiet place. Nicely done!

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