A poem.

I want to share a beautiful, poignant poem with you. It was written by John T. Wood, and I have a copy of it on the wall beside my bedroom. It’s been there for over two years, but even now, I often stop and read it. Sadly, I’ve been unable to find anything else written by this man. The first time I read it, one of the thoughts which went through my mind was “I wish I had written it”.

POEM FOR EVERYONE

I will present you
parts
of
my
self
slowly
if you are patient and tender.
I will open drawers
that mostly stay closed
and bring out places and people and things
sounds and smells,
loves and frustrations,
hopes and sadnesses,
bits and pieces of three decades of life
that have been grabbed off
in chunks
and found lying in my hands.
they have eaten
their way into my memory,
carved their way into
my heart.
altogether
– you or i will never see them –
they are me.
if you regard them lightly,
deny that they are important
or worse, judge them
i will quietly, slowly,
begin to wrap them up,
in small pieces of velvet,
like worn silver and gold jewelry,
tuck them away
in a small wooden chest of drawers

and close.

John T. Wood.

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51 thoughts on “A poem.

    1. Yes. This one poem – I wonder if the writer knows just how powerful it is. I first discovered it pinned to the office wall of a drugs counsellor, back when I used to go there with my daughter..

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  1. I think that I found another poem by John T. Wood which is called I won’t always cry Mummy.
    I won’t always cry, Mummy,
    When you leave the room
    and my supermarket tantrums,
    Will end too soon,
    I won’t always wake, Daddy,
    … For cuddles through the night
    & one day you’ll miss,
    Having a chocolate face to wipe.
    You won’t always wake to find my foot,
    is kicking you out of bed,
    Or find me sideways on your pillow,,
    Where you want to lay your head.
    You won’t always have to carry me,
    In asleep from the car,
    Or piggy back me down the road,
    When my little legs can’t walk that far,
    So cherish every cuddle,
    Remember them all,
    Because one day, Mummy.
    I won’t be this small

    Liked by 1 person

        1. Thank you for your serendipitous mistake. I was so moved by the poem that I rang my son. Your error might have saved his life. I don’t say this lightly. He’s an addict in shaky recovery, and our contact is sparse, as he’s abusive toward me when he uses. I think he needed me to reach out to him today. I read him the poem, and he was very moved by it.
          I’ve long been aware of the ripple effect of small actions, and I’m grateful to you for fluttering your wings.

          Liked by 2 people

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