Disclaimer: I wrote this poem over two months ago, I believe on Valentine’s Day. During the months of February and March over the last five years, I have written color poems with third grade students. This year, I did not have that enrichment group with which to work. But, I was filled with emotion – the emotion that maybe only mothers have when we are trying to let our children fly out of the nest.  I am happy to tell you that now I do not see the red described in the poem below – only the red of a heart filled with love & hope.

Red.

Today,  I am seeing red.

No, it is not the red that is Valentine’s Day; the red of love.

Although, it is a mother’s love that forms the foundation of my concerns.

 

It is the red of anger.

Much time is spent being angry again,

stewing like a simmering pot of ripe tomatoes.

I know this is not good for me or anyone around me.

But, it is so. I am angry. I boil over.

 

Anger is the ill-conceived child of anxiety.

Things are done but more are left undone.

The talk is talked, but the walk is left un-walked.

You say you are ready to go but I do not see the signs of that being true.

 

Apathy, Lethargy, Blaming. Boredom.

Your way is different than mine. I get it. But, the

missed emails, missed-notifications, missed snail mail.

Alert me to a problem.

Is it you? Or has the institution made a snafu?

I want you to figure it out.  I am trying so hard to let you.

 

Last night’s anxiety led to this morning’s anger.

Lack of sleep nourished the seeds of fear and doubt in my mind.

I am blamed for trying to help.

This, I do not understand. It makes my cheeks burn with heat.

Red.