…the attic


–By Ruth Cronin

Somewhere, in the attic,

when I search I find

moments from childhood

that I left behind..

youth, in all its splendor,

buried deep within…

I dress up in those early days

and visit them, again.

Here…

in the trunk,

amid some books and jumble

are photographs of loved ones

of mother, and dad…and uncle

they’re gone, now,

but they smile

eternally they live…

through bits of conversation

through lessons, that they give.

They still remind, what matters:

“Good values,” they insist,

“…and shortcuts don’t amount

to much…

escapes, one must resist.”

They tell of joy

of humor

how priceless, they can be,

and point out the importance

to slow down…and to see!

Of praises, warm and simple,

how often they are missed..

those kind considerations

that stand out, from the rest.

They draw us together

and bless us together

and bless us, our haste

“…honey, I love you,”

or “Daddy, you’re the best!”

And handshakes

how they matter…

they bind us, with their trust.

Or frivolous notions

that delight us, with their fuss.

And listening…

when it’s golden

it can never be outdone…

this simple invitation

offers refuge, to someone!

And, here,

in a Bible…

the dearest treasure, yet,

a little pearl of insight

something Jesus said:

“Don’t be afraid, my child,

why do you doubt?”

sometimes, He whispered it,

and sometimes…

spoke aloud.

It’s good to be, in the attic,

a place of memories

amid the dust and quiet

to find realities…

truths that never waver

change

or pretend…

and even though they’re

scattered

they make us whole, again!

I first met Ruth Cronin in the late 1980s at church in the Boston area. She wrote similar encouraging poetry each week for the church bulletin. Ruth is in the process of publishing her works.

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