How many times
would I say to them,
“I love you”?
How many times? I wonder
as I lie awake tonight.
Hundreds of times,
thousands, as often as
spring rains thrum the earth?
How many times?If it would protect them
from all harm; if it would help
them honor themselves
to the end; if it would
exterminate the fears
that crawl under their doors and
ride the drafts that whisper
through their window frames…
I would go for the record,
of that you can be sure.© 2014 Dennis H. Ference
Merging Traffic 
“…honor themselves” “exterminate the fears that crawl under their doors”
These lines spoke to me. I’ve noticed that as I watch the next generation of Mini Me humans grow, I no longer say, “I love you.” After watching anxiety run rampant through my family, I now tell my grandchildren, “I love you just the way you are.” They have generations of unworthiness to conquer.
I, too, have witnessed the torturous effects of anxiety in its many disguises in myself and others and believe that awareness of our intimate oneness with the divine is a powerful step in transcending this reality that can so cripple us. Peace!
I really like this poem, and I honor the intensity of the love and protection that surfaces here. Were the human race to be more intentional on such things, we would be all the better for it.
Amen. Thanks.
Your poems bring tears to my eyes!
I’m glad I can share with others that part of me that has been so deeply moved by my grandchildren. Peace.
Lovely thoughts. Yes, being a grandparent is a special privledge and responsibility! And thank you much for “liking” several of my poems–I very much appreciate it. I will return when I have mnore time to read your other writings. (And by the way, my daughter is a chaplain.:))
Will be learning more about you through your poems. Peace!
With love for the likes of me comes anxiety over loss. I love how you express that here.
Thanks for the compliment. Your blog is a wonderful testament to the fact that a person is more than their anxiety. Peace.
Thanks so very much. I am so glad for your comment because I lose sight of myself when swamped with anxiety much of the time. Peace to you and much appreciation!!
I’ve come to believe that life is lived in the trenches as well on the mountains and an artist has no real choice but to do her art from both places.
Dennis, this was written with such depth and passion, i could feel your sincerity and intensity crawl into my chest. Oh if only or obsessing could prevent the ills and wiles of life… as if we don’t already worry ourselves sick about those we love, imagine if our worries had preventative powers. we would all martyr ourselves trying to save those we love from one moment of hurt. I loved this.
Thanks for expounding on the “feel” of this poem and the feelings it can spark. Peace! ~Dennis
🙂
so much love
Sometimes one doesn’t realize the power of love till you are moved by its immense energy.
Yes, so true
“ride the drafts that whisper
through their window frames…”
I love your way with words!
Much appreciated, Ken.