Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Catapult – A Poem

Catapult – A Poem

©By Vijaya Sundaram

I watch the sun’s beckoning fingers

Inviting my daughter and me to go out

And play.  The lure is undeniable.

I resist, resolutely.  I shall not go out.

No, I shall not.  I want to be lumpen.

My plea?  Too tired.  Too worn out.

Not for me the beautiful sun

Nor for me the brisk air 

Of near-Spring, teetering

At the edge of winter,

Still tilted in Winter’s wake.

I insist on staying indoors, always

The rebel against that which is good for me.

I used to be good, you know.

I was good.  I looked good.

I was young and aware of it. 

So, I carefully did these:

Walk, eat right, count my calories,

Be healthy, do lunges and stretches.

Now, un-Cinderella-like, with the years

Flown by, I find that I’ve turned

Into a pumpkin, and do not mind.

My daughter doesn’t mind that we are home.

She’s had her sun-stint earlier today,

With loving and dutiful Dad.

She played with Bella, a beautiful dog

She romped about

On  wood-chips and grass,

Happy to be almost at Spring’s door.

I wasn’t there.  I was told the bare

Details: Playground, dog, Bella, romping.

But I might have been there.

I saw them all, clearly.

For I hallucinate scenes

Clear as day, scenes which move

Like movies of yore, slow long

Camera angles and panning.

I see everything:  My child,

Bella the dog, her fond owner,

My fond husband watching our daughter

Adore the dog, and the blue, blue sky above.

I hallucinate most things (but I know

It’s in my mind), because the stories

Always unfold thus, and all the colors are

Extra-saturated and brighter than real.

Now, as I watch, bemused, nonplussed,

My daughter prances about the house

Cat-faced, with a mask she made herself.

Cow-like, she moos, then cat-like, she slinks

Towards me, catapulting into my arms.

Stunned, I allow myself

To be borne away on the wave of her

Eight-year old magic.

Once, she asked me:

Would you love me if I were a boy?

I shall always love you.

Would you love me less if I were a teenager?

I shall always love you.

Can I stay with you and Dad forever?

I shall always love you.

I love you, Mom!

I shall always love you.

 

“I don’t want to grow up,” she states

Seriously, full of purpose and intent.

“I won’t!  I want to stay a kid

Forever, and be free.”

Part of me agrees.

Another part says,

What of the you who’s waiting to be?

But for now, we stay far from the catapult

Which flings us into the distant future.

Time enough for growing up.

For right now, a child of eight

Claims my entire attention

And dances in the spotlight

Of my love for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~