As poet Felecia Caton Garcia of New Mexico shows us in this moving poem, there are times when parents feel helpless and hopeless. But the human heart is remarkable and, like a dry creek bed, somehow fills again, is renewed and restored.
- Ted Kooser
"Drought"
Try to remember: things go wrong in spite of it all.
I listen to our daughters singing in the crackling rows
of corn and wonder why I don't love them more.
They move like dark birds, small mouths open
to the sky and hungry. All afternoon I listen
to the highway and watch clouds push down over the hills.
I remember your legs, heavy with sleep, lying across mine.
I remember when the world was transparent, trembling, all
shattering light. I had to grit my teeth against its brilliance.
It was nothing like this stillness that makes it difficult
to lift my eyes. When I finally do, I see you
carrying the girls over the sharp stones of the creek bed.
When they pull at my clothes and lean against my arms,
I don't know what to do and do nothing.
Ted Kooser was U.S. poet laureate, 2004-06. Copyright 2006 by Felecia Caton Garcia. Reprinted from "Northwest Review," Vol. 44, No. 3, 2006, by permission of the author. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.