Iphigene here.
For the months of January and February, we, at GB are partly revisiting our childhood through the books we read. In line with our theme, I’m sharing today an original poem I wrote in 2014. While I am not as prolific as I was back in the early 2000s where I wrote poetry like a woman possessed, I seem to still write poetry as a means of reflection. This poem reflects my musing on the idea that life is uncertain and yet, we live for that uncertainty.
I hope you enjoy it. Thanks Tara of A Teaching Life for hosting today. 🙂
Note: Change in Font Color indicates following stanza. WordPress for some reason isn’t allowing me to break my poem.
Untitled
by Iphigene Daradar
Sometimes there was art
Sometimes there was no art
Like a summer day with clouds
Dark, a coat over a summer dress
And rain never coming
Like a child attempting to hold
In clasp hands water
Crossing the road gently only
To come to her destination
Empty wet hands
And no water
I watch the road, in heat and rain
In the barrenness of days and the noise
Of evening, but like a child
I find my way back
Empty hands, wet cheeks.
Sometimes there was faith
Sometimes there was no faith
Where prayers slide off my mouth
Only for worry lines to grow
Between my brow
I let myself stumble,
Like a little child
bringing her legs up
Wobbling, taking tiny steps
But faltering to tears
And lifting arms for someone
To carry, to soothe away
Only to lift mine
To space and stillness
they said, like the turning of days
The uncertainty of weather,
We live life for it,
For the certainty of the never same
Of the never real
Rolling off our beds
For tiniest bits of rain on a hot day
Sun on a stormy morning
and another day
After a good night sleep
Gathering Books 
Wonderful poem, loved the color changes, like mood changes. A good night’s sleep is the best ending to any endeavor.
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Hi Brenda,
thank you for visiting and taking the time to comment. I’m glad you enjoyed the poem.
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My pleasure.
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It feels like a poem of hope, Iphigene, all through the days. I love the analogy of rain & wet, love “For the certainty of the never same”.
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Hi Linda,
It definitely is about hope. We think of uncertainty often as a scary thing, but it is uncertainty that allows us to hope.
thanks you as always for dropping by. 🙂
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Beautiful, Iphigene. Wistful, sad, and hopeful at the same time.
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I am glad the message came across. Thanks for visiting. 🙂
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I just want to take the line, “Sometimes there was art” and carry it around with me. 🙂
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Hi Karen,
I think that’s one of the most unique comment I have received about something I have written. Feel free to carry that line around. 🙂
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