Thank you to Margaret Simon for shepherding the Progressive Poem tradition started oh so long ago by Irene Latham.
Thank you to all the poets before me who brought Manu and his sister this far, and thank you, Janet, for getting them safely to their destination.
To the poets who will provide the final closure, good luck and happy writing!
April 23 Tanita Davis at (fiction, instead of lies)
April 24 Molly Hogan at Nix the Comfort Zone
April 25 Joanne Emery at Word Dancer
April 26 Karin Fisher-Golton at Still in Awe
April 27 Donna Smith at Mainly Write
April 28 Dave at Leap of Dave
April 29 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 30 Michelle Kogan at More Art for All
And now, for the poem:
cradled in stars, our planet sleeps,
clinging to tender dreams of peace
sister moon watches from afar,
singing lunar lullabies of hope.
almost dawn, I walk with others,
keeping close, my little brother.
hand in hand, we carry courage
escaping closer to the border
My feet are lightning;
My heart is thunder.
Our pace draws us closer
to a new land of wonder.
I bristle against rough brush—
poppies ahead brighten the browns.
Morning light won’t stay away—
hearts jump at every sound.
I hum my own little song
like ripples in a stream
Humming Mami’s lullaby
reminds me I have her letter
My fingers linger on well-worn creases,
shielding an address, a name, a promise–
Sister Moon will find always us
surrounding us with beams of kindness
But last night as we rested in the dusty field,
worries crept in about matters back home.
I huddled close to my brother. Tears revealed
the no-choice need to escape. I feel grown.
Leaving all I’ve ever known
the tender, heavy, harsh of home.
On to maybes, on to dreams,
on to whispers we hope could be.
But I don’t want to whisper! I squeeze Manu’s hand.
“¡Más cerca ahora!” Our feet pound the sand.
We race, we pant, we lean on each other
I open my canteen and drink gratefully
Thirst is slaked, but I know we’ll need
more than water to achieve our dreams.
Nights pass slowly, but days call for speed
through the highs and the lows, we live with extremes
We enter a village the one from Mami’s letter,
We find the steeple; food, kindly people, and shelter.
“We made it, Manu! Mami would be so proud!”
I choke back a sob, then stand tall for the crowd.
A(nother) Year of Reading 
Ah, the relief that causes tears. I am attached to the children in this poem and want so much for their rescue and survival. You captured that strong emotion.
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I feel our character’s pride in accomplishment, but somehow I feel the journey is not over yet. Rooting for them!
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Ah, so glad they have some relief and the path is forward, and hopefully, not as hard from here, but still, hard. I feel like I want to know more and I am rooting for them. Thanks for your line, Mary Lee. We feel sister’s humanity loud and clear in her action of standing tall and being proud.
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Mary Lee, wow! We are nearing a climax it seems. “Mami would be so proud!” makes me sad, yet hopeful. I wonder what will happen next.
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Thank you for a strong jumping off point! A long trail, but they have arrived… Here’s to every child who survives trouble and here’s to a child celebrating a world where adults are in charge…!
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I adore the happy turn this has taken!
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Sorry, I couldn’t get here yesterday, Mary Lee. It’s simply a joyful two lines to celebrate! Thanks!
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Love that you added dialog and I am wondering about the crowd. Thanks Mary Lee!
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Forgive my belated catching-up, Mary Lee–I like hearing Sister’s voice again, and the very believable mix of emotion. How nice that they are greeted by a crowd (and that easy, effective rhyme)! I hope it’s a welcoming one.
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And, they must be proud of themselves. Thank you for these uplifting lines!
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There is celebration in your lines, Mary Lee, espressed by the narrative. There is a touch of sadness since Mami is not in the picture. This is a wonderful poem so far.
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