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My Two Precious Sons
by maria antonia rahartati bambang haryo On August six, nineteen sixty six, JHW, your coming sparkled our living ... On April twenty four, nineteen eighty seven, CSN, your arrival excelled our existence ... two lovely babies two different lullabies you would sleep only with this song, JHW, ...sleep, darling sleep, angels holding near, dear ... and you, CSN, still remember this one? ... ne pleure plus, ne pleure plus, maman te berce mon amour ... somewhere in time, John Locke's notion tabula rasa, clutched instantly my attention He said, it was up to parents to select colors to paint faith blush hope tinge charity on their children's blank tablet clean canvas clear paper sadly, there was no school for motherhood I mixed too much despair when I painted faith and excess of doubts when I highlighted hope and didn't spread enough loyalty when I tinted charity ... then came school days followed by the churning youth years you took possession of your own canvas you took control of your own tablet and started to add colors sadly, when you wanted to erase scratches or remove marks and blotches we were stunned it was too far from what we wished ... you were distressed I was troubled what to do, then? when in times communications were clumsy when we were not careful about what we did, said and thought while apologies were stiff and taut and regrets seemed enforced my two precious sons, what if we sit and talk together, now that finally we're aware that life's rehearsal is over let's beckon our God the Lord to recreate our paintings for He knows not the word late let's have faith that scratches will be retouched into exquisite scenery while marks and blotches will be transformed into remarkable vistas my two precious sons, what if we let our Greatest Artist repaint our life with His best chosen of shades then it would be a masterpiece to your delight to my elation to our happiness on heaven and earth with much prayers and love, your mother Author's Notes - ...sleep, darling sleep, angels holding near, dear ... A cradle song I learned to play when I was a child, from a MAMMOTH book piano for children. I lost that book, and never found it until now ... - ... ne pleure plus, ne pleure plus, maman te berce mon amour ... (don't cry, don't cry, mother lulls you, my love) A cradle song in French, I especially made for CSN, right after he was born. - John Locke's tabula rasa - blank slate - Latin - refers to the epistemological thesis that individuals are born without built-in mental content and that their knowledge comes from experience and perception. - translator - from French and English into Indonesian since 1979; 96 books have been published. - writer - 12 children books and 2 novellettes in Indonesian have been published. - member of fanstory.com; I have posted 77 writings (short stories and poetry) Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |