by Glen Martin Fitch
Exhausted, overwhelmed,
confused, up-set.
As when a toddler
bellows on the rug.
So small and powerless,
her needs unmet,
she fights me,
but I know she needs a hug.
(My loving parents
would have belted me
or worse ignored my plight)
Though she resists
my arms encircle her.
She can't get free.
"When you relax,
I'll let you go."
She twists and bends
and yet I know
she craves restraint.
She longs to know
that someone's big enough
and cares enough
to answer her complaint.
So we need others,
constant, careful, tough.
"Thanks, officer,
for making me slow down.
Our town is safe.
I'm safer in our town."
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011