A decade ago

I peeked through my window

Holding my newborn.

You rode your bike.

I watched for cars.

Eight years ago

I gazed down the block

Rocking another newborn.

You played basketball.

I watched for cars.

Five years ago

I ran to my window

With my husband to watch.

You walked by with girls

I watched for cars.

Three years ago

I drove down our road

On my way home from work.

You waved hello

I stopped my car.

One year ago

I went for a jog

Chasing my children on bikes.

As we passed you by

You checked for cars.

Two weeks ago

I pulled into my driveway

With tears in my eyes.

You stopped by to console me

While we leaned on my car.

One month from now

You graduate

Waving goodbye to my children.

You’ll go off to become a man,

And pull away in your car.

Today I heard the news.

I searched the road in disbelief.

You weren’t walking by.

You weren’t bouncing a ball.

They couldn’t stop the car.


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7 thoughts on “Isaiah

Add yours

  1. You structured your poem well to highlight the slow build. I also liked that you etched out the relationship between the narrator and the neighbor (? I don’t think Isaiah is the narrator’s child, at least) with the subtle changes in the repetitive lines.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh fuck (sorry for the language)…that gave me goosebumps. I was expecting something bad due to your clever foreshadowing and yet, I was gobsmacked in the end. Beautifully written! And oh-so-sad.

    Liked by 1 person

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