Poetry

By Eileen Starr


“Inactive” Husband

Alone with all the children—
Ward members mourn my lot.
They wonder if my husband’s
At work or sick or what?
They ask me if he’s found
A hobby more attractive
To keep him from his meetings.
They fear he’s gone inactive.
They wonder what could force him
Our ward now to forsake,
Forgetting they sustained him
To that calling in the stake.

To a Daughter

Now that you are seventeen,
An important age,
You sweep by me
In your hurry to get places.
Sometimes I would like to follow.
But your world is yours alone.
I think of you as a second hand
On a clock—and I,
I am the minute hand,
Not too far behind,
Glad for the moments
When we make brief contact,
Yet knowing your revolutions
Will always outdistance me.
In your haste, please remember
I am here … not too far behind you.
When you want us to make contact,
Tell me so
And I will run,
Breaking all the laws of nature.
Like a minute hand gone wild
I will run
To catch up with you.

[photo] Dolls by Pat M. Hoggan