Thursday, April 7, 2016

Carol A. Hand

This is a story from times of old
about a catfish and a golden toad
and a partnership ill-fated
Sometimes love is not meant to be
though the realization may be belated

They met long ago in a magical place
as if by happenstance
in the wooded hills of faraway
where many came to sing and dance

Both seeking to pursue their dreams
to fill an inner longing
to find a place to free their sprits
in a community of belonging

He tall and proud
a prince among the toads
Following the edge of Sewer Brook
rather than hopping down the winding roads

toad 3

She swimming against the current
up the mighty Housatonic River
A little daughter swimming by her side
forging on with a gasp, a sigh, a shiver

He arrived years before her
filling an empty soul with passion after passion
with little concern for consequences
Caring about others and the earth had fallen out of fashion

She on the other hand
in her wound-weary watery soul
tried to bring comfort to those who suffered
and make the broken-hearted whole

Ah, what a disaster can sometimes happen
when such opposites join together
Both may lose their sense of worth
surrounded by forever stormy weather

Final goodbyes in this case
a blessing in disguise
Freeing both to pursue their dreams again
Perhaps alone, but each under sunnier skies

catfishes

Note: Inspired by life and “The Wind in the Willows” by Kenneth Grahame (1908).

Mr. Toad, the main character in The Wind in the Willows, is aptly described in Wikipedia as follows.

“Toad is intelligent, creative and resourceful; however, he is also narcissistic, self-centred [sic] almost to the point of sociopathy, and completely lacking in even the most basic common sense…. Ultimately, Toad has his heart in the right place. His characteristics have made him arguably the epitome of the stock character of the lovable rogue. During the course of his adventures Toad alternates between deep remorse for his arrogance and having relapses into it.”

Perhaps Mr. Toad is a “lovable rogue,” but he’s not my idea of an ideal life companion.

***

Copyright Notice: © Carol A. Hand and carolahand, 2013-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Carol A. Hand and carolahand with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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About Carol A. Hand

What matters are not the titles I’ve held or university degrees I earned or the size of a house or bank account. It’s really what I’ve learned from ordinary people like me whom I’ve met along the way. They taught me to live with gratitude and give thanks for each new day.
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16 Responses to Thursday, April 7, 2016

  1. sojourner says:

    This, unfortunately, seems to happen with many!

    I know this is about your family. And as you know, I can relate to this poem as well, Carol!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. mytiturk says:

    Hope fills this poem, despite the chasm between value systems.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I just knew this was about you! I’m glad you confirmed it in your response to Dave’s comment. It is the telling of a bittersweet truth and wise understanding. Loved it. 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  4. wolfegeo says:

    I’ve read this at least four times. Something kept drawing me back. Now for the first time I’m reading it on your page (instead of my email) where I can see others comments. You have an incredible way with words. Hard as it may be sometimes the best thing is to let go, as you say, “Freeing both to pursue their dreams again”.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Bernadette says:

    I, also felt this was personal heart break story. Well written analogy.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Wow! For an old hound dog, it seemed just a fanciful tale. How true that writing is the ultimate means for understanding and moving on. Sometimes wish old pap and I could rhyme.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Buster, thank you for your kind, thoughtful words. Please tell old pap that speaking from the heart is so much more important than rhyming – and I know that you already know that…

      Like

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