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Praying

She pleads for time to say a prayer,

and stay the hand that snuffs the light,

impatient for closure on this day.

Amidst the chaos of her toy strewn bed

I watch the silent murmurings of her lips,

sweet incantations of her faith,

finger to finger to palm pressed palm,

forehead, stomach, left breast, right

she crosses them all,

whilst I look on,

struck dumb by fear,

praying for the long straw

and crossing my fingers.

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Comments

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sian howell

Mon 4th Oct 2010 10:12

Hi Isobel....many thanks for your kind comments.....this piece builds in power over several reads...as a mum I felt the potency of the situation. X

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Isobel

Wed 29th Sep 2010 17:23

Yes - it is based on fact Andy. My daughter is dying, I am dying, you are dying...the only uncertainty is when.
James is right in his summary of the poem. We start off in life very innocent and accepting and hopeful but become jaded by life experience and what we see around us.
Cynthia's poem 'Usufruct' is about the philosophy of Lucretius. He says that life is a loan - this is it - there is nothing else - make the most of it. That just led me to thinking how unfair it was for those who couldn't make the most of it due to circumstances. I wasn't thinking just of those whose lives are cut short so much as those who have no quality of life. The long straw therefore has 2 meanings.
I sometimes wonder if my own personal faith is dwindling with time. Does anyone remember the Graham Green analogy of faith turning into a black cat crossing the road? The crossed fingers echo that.
I would describe myself as a hoper rather than a believer. To be a no-hoper would be just too depressing for me.

Sorry about the essay - it just takes a bit of explaining. x

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Lynn Dye

Tue 28th Sep 2010 21:43

I love the tenderness in this too, Isobel, beautiful poem xx

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Andy N

Tue 28th Sep 2010 19:54

very sad, isobel.. hope it isn't based on fact my dear but i love it... wonderful stuff xx

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Francine

Tue 28th Sep 2010 17:21

C'est tendre et doux, Isobel.

xxx

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 28th Sep 2010 16:41

I think it is a lovely poem Isobel. Hope you sleep better tonight - but if you don't can we expect another one tomorrow? xx

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James Lancaster

Tue 28th Sep 2010 16:38

This is excellent Isobel. Very moving. I didn't read it as a nod to religious faith, more the contrast between innocent - some might say 'blind' - faith we all, at one time, invested in the world and the jaded, fearful creatures we become. But it can be read in different ways, which is why I like it.

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Isobel

Tue 28th Sep 2010 16:03

I'm so glad you all liked it. Thank you so much for your generous comments. I love to write poetry that makes people think or touches them in a a non sentimental way - that is the kind of poetry that often appeals to me.

The poem was inspired by Cynthia's poem Usufruct combined with the experience of putting my daughter to bed. She rarely does formal prayers at home but just happened to do them as all this was mulling over in my mind.
Thanks for taking the effort to re-work it Ann. Yours may have better flow but it changes the feel of it for me. I appreciate your interest and comment though.

Graham I am undecided about your suggestions - one minute I think it is better the next I want to stick with what I have. Not enough sleep to make proper decisions maybe - that'll teach me to write poetry in the early hours!

Thanks again all. x

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Graham Sherwood

Tue 28th Sep 2010 15:41

I think in the second line it should say "to stay the hand" etc and "and palm to palm" etc, the pressed is too much aliteration. Overall the work is a tender piece, an almost secretive glimpse.

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Cate Greenlees

Tue 28th Sep 2010 11:08

Just beautiful Isobel. And so refreshing to see faith written about so tenderly and touchingly. Does this makes me old fashioned? Well I dont give a s..t!
Cate xx

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Greg Freeman

Tue 28th Sep 2010 10:55

This is a fine poem, Isobel, one of the best I've read on this site. Well-crafted, but also charged with emotion. Particularly liked the juxtaposition of your daughter? crossing herself - and you crossing your fingers.

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 28th Sep 2010 10:19

I agree with Cynthia, but for me the rythm seems a little "out". Can I annoy you deeply by doing another version where the rythm sounds better to me? But of course, that will probably destroy your poem! Sorry in advance! xx

She pleads for time to say a prayer,

and stay the hand that snuffs the light,

impatient for the close of day.

Amidst the chaos of her bed

I watch the silent murmuring lips,

sweet incantations of her faith,

finger to finger, palm to palm,

forehead, stomach, left breast, right

crosses them all,

whilst I look on,

struck dumb by fear,

and praying for

the longer straw.



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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 28th Sep 2010 10:01

Isobel, this is wonderful. I think your work has the real gift of deep, probing thought and its cogent expression. And it touches people, certainly me, deeply.

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Dave Bradley

Tue 28th Sep 2010 07:34

There is so much in this. Simple, powerful, effective. The innocence of a child measured against the looming threats of life, so much more menacing for not being spelt out. A parent's tender love and the anxiety which goes with it (and also that feeling "Phew it's the end of the day - time to myself"). And the big question - Is anyone listening? A really good one, Izz. It's a pity about the insomnia but if it means stuff like this it isn't all downside.

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