Child-like
a poem by Peter M. Ivey
Child-like
Put down your #2 pencil. Better yet, break it to shards. Tear into pieces the test that always fails you. Then find yourself a playground, a sandbox, a pile of dirt. Fill your hands like sacred shovels. Make it rain with no regard. Claim a slide and climb it, the way they always told you not to. Glide down head-first. Scream. Track an ant. Swing a friend. Follow a fly until you find the way home.
An Invitation
What word, phrase, or image in today’s poem captures your attention, draws emotion, brings rise to a memory?
What comes to mind when you hear the phrase “the test that always fails you?” How would you define “the test” for yourself?
Consider reading the poem again slowly. Then spend some time in listening prayer. Is there an invitation you sense God extending to you in today’s poem? A kindness being offered? A reminder?
Consider sharing your thoughts, questions, promptings, etc., in the comments below. It’s always so encouraging to hear how a particular poem stirs you.
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I love this, Peter! I could feel myself sliding headfirst down the scorching hot slide at my elementary school in Southwest Louisiana. Your poem literally took me home.
So much joy in this poem “the way home” got me. I’ve been thinking lately about my childhood home and how I go to it often but it rarely feels like the same place, but it doesn’t mean I won’t ever have that kinda space again. It’s just different. This was such a great poem Peter!