Weary brow.


Closed eyes, that attempt
ever so hopefully,
to shut out the world,
and its ceaseless opinion.

Deep shudders reveal,
a tearful storm,
aftershocks of a torrid pain,
exhausted into silence.

Head bent,
needing solitudes retreat,
a moment without condemnation,
a silent moment,
that allows one tender breath.

(This poem was written after reading the book: Reviving Ophelia: Saving The Selves Of Adolscent Girls By Mary Pipher PH.D, and refers to a chapter in the book which introduces the agony suffered by pre-teens to fit in at a junior high level. I highly recommend it’s reading.)

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

2 thoughts on “Weary brow.

  1. good poem and a good book…When I first started reading it years ago, hoping to find a way to understand what was “eating” my daughter I was non-pulsed–until it clicked that the world being described was NOT the same world I grew up in–or anyone else for that matter. The lives of ‘children’ had become complex in dark dark ways that barely allow them to be ‘children’. With that insight I found a way to help. And was lucky at the time to have one teacher who consented to a plan–and it worked–it was hard for the teacher, for me, for my daughter because we all had to be aware and communicate immediately and honestly. But it paid off for all of us. I shudder to think of children, of girls, who are not so ‘lucky.’

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