Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Unprotected Moments

Another poem from my wife, Jennie.



Unprotected Moments

By Jennie Chapman Linthorst


My son has reached the age of seven,

the stage where memories get stored

into the warehouse of childhood.


When he is older,

he will open the heavy, sliding aluminum doors,

to access the boxes,

the moments of firsts.


The first time Mrs. Guelff praised his first grade homework,

The campfire skits, midnight snacks, and sleeping bag snuggles

while camping with Dad.


I wonder what the disappointing memories will be,

or the first recollections of fear.


I awoke yesterday to the sound of his screaming.

My independent boy had gotten up quietly

and was opening a birthday toy in the basement to play.

I found him shrieking with terror,

his tall lanky body shaking with tears.

A large spider had crawled from the new box,

piercing the silence, terrorizing his solitude.


Where is that stored in the Psyche?-

these moments I can’t protect him from-

spiders, unkind words, judgments, misconceptions,

and the scenes of an inconsistent world.


Jennie Linthorst, BA, CAPF, a Certified Applied Poetry Facilitator, is the founder of LifeSPEAKS Poetry Therapy.  Jennie has facilitated expressive poetry therapy workshops at UC Irvine Extension, the University of Santa Monica, and in retirement homes and women’s centers.  In addition to her workshops, Jennie works privately with individuals and parents, exploring their personal histories through reading and writing poetry.  Jennie wrote about her own journey of motherhood in her book of poems, A Mother’s Journey.

More Workshop info at www.lifespeakspoetrytherapy.com

Contact Jennie Linthorst: 310-546-7771; Jchap17@gmail.com

1 comment:

  1. Improve Autism(Facebook)
    What is this?
    Teena Young

    What is this?
    I can’t be clear
    Why you feel
    So much fear.

    What is this?
    What can it be?
    It’s almost like,
    You cannot see.

    What is this?
    Why do you shrug?
    When I want
    To give a hug.

    What is this?
    Why are you mad?
    All of this
    Feels so sad.

    What is this?
    Why did you go?
    I don’t think
    I’ll ever know.

    What is this?
    Why can’t you say?
    You could talk

    What is this?
    Could it be me?
    Who brings you back
    Where you can see.
    What is this?
    It’s like a prism.
    The many colors
    Of autism……