Old Otalgia

Compassion’s earache

sits on the tattered couch

worn thin by visitors

who came to get

and seldom returned to give.

Compassion’s earache

sips Pepto-Bismol

straight from the bottle,

waiting for someone

to take her out

for a real drink,

or at least make

her some chamomile,

pop in a DVD,

and rub her feet

once in a while.

Compassion’s earache

has thick-skinned,

broad shoulders

even when we are

too blind to see them droop,

too thin-skinned to care,

and too deaf to hear her

when she calls for us to listen too.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

I’m back from a little blog-sabbatical and it’s OpenLinkNight at dVerse!

Unsung Rain

I held you in my hands,

cupped you to my face,

drenched myself in your flood,

and hid tears in your presence

                        as a secret we shared.

Your music put me to sleep

and drowned the echo of sorrows

in long nights you rocked me,

showering drops against the pane

—were you begging to be let in?

When you stayed until the morning

washing and making things new,

I’d wake and sing my insensitive song,

frowning, I’d begin…

“Rain, rain go away…"

Even then you would sigh,

contentedly, from heaven;

peering sheepishly from behind clouds

as I wiped the sugars off my mouth

from the fruits that were your labor.

Never did you seek applause of me,

always willing to play sidekick, straight man, to our comedic sun

while I laughed among flowered mornings

that without you

                        would never have been quite so sweet.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

in Carry on Tuesday and Poets United Poetry Pantry