Heirloom

HEIRLOOM

A piece of quartz!
What an excellent present
To give
To our first child!

… I threw it in a flowerbed
The gardener will come and turn it under …

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on February 28, 2012, in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. I like the imagery. Made me smile my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. hmm… how common some people think we are.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sorry, but I’m not following your thought here.

      Like

      • Although I love Quartz, and I wear one around my neck, it is one of the most abundant (common) minerals found on Earth. My interpretation of your poem had to do with the choice of mineral…

        I have since read your explanation of the poem, and I hope my comment was not received as insensitive. Ben, I don’t see this as a poorly written poem, I see it as a poem open to many interpretations. And my initial comment, unfortunately, was rather light.

        Jackie

        Liked by 1 person

    • As if I’d write anything light? What me? ๐Ÿ˜‰ ๐Ÿ˜›

      No, your comment wasn’t received as insensitive. I am pretty hard to upset, though easily confused. ๐Ÿ˜€

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  3. Ben, as you know, expectations and reality are two different things. We are also, too often, two ships passing in the night. I know when our son died Ethel was so disappointed that people we thought we were close to only sent us words, no cards, no food, nothing but words of condolence. None of them even made the effort to visit us in even though we had been driving to Sunday poetry meetings for an hour and a half for years. In the community that once existed in the United States there would have been gifts and other physical expressions of concern. One of those people, after we had given a substantial monetary gift after the death of her mother, after receiving with joy an original painting from Ethel before our son died, later told me, with an almost puzzled tone in her voice, I wish I had done more when Kevin died. The others have never given us a hint that they have any idea that they maybe disappointed us. When one of their sons went through a divorce, however, the discussion and expressions of concerns and gifts (believe it or not) went on and on. These are all good people and great poets, but we have been slowly finding ourselves, with some regret, moving away from them. They seem to be puzzled about why, although we are doing so as gently and even tentatively as we can.
    The person who gave you a quartz probably believed it was a fine gift, a gift of the earth, and beautiful, when they gave it to you. They did not probably understand that quartz is the most common mineral on the face of the earth. They probably did not understand that a birth is beyond miraculous and a reason to celebrate in a profound rather than common way.
    In the end I celebrate those who did not visit us when our son died. I appreciate them deeply, but there is a but. They could have deepened, with a simple effort that would not have cost them much of anything, their bonds with us, but chose to take another course. We understand, and we will not reject them completely or even let them know the roots of our disillusionment. Still, disappointment and disillusionment has slowly loosened bonds that were. Your child is a gift that sings in your blood and spirit and will forever. May the child replace disappointment and disillusionment with decades of experiences that turn, upon reflection, into joy.

    Liked by 1 person

    • “Ben, as you know, expectations and reality are two different things.” How true this is. True here also. My intention in composing this short piece, and its meaning to and for me, is worlds away from your reading of it, which only serves to show how poorly written it is.

      It was I who found this piece of quartz, and put it aside for passing on to the child she and I would have one day. I have always had a special affection for quartz. After she walked away, it was too painful an heirloom to want to retain. In the event I have never fathered a child.

      As for your own story of disappointment, may I say I appreciate you taking the time to share it. I have had similar experience with supposed friends, but also times when others have been truly supportive and caring. I generally try to support others through their hard times, but I’m sure there have been also times when I have been remiss.

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  4. Many interpretations indeed!
    Ben, I thought that you were burying the piece of quartz for your child to joyfully find someday, as he/she playfully dug in the garden. (I have found many “treasures” this way….) With that meaning in mind, it’s beautiful to me. Sorry that wasn’t what you intended – but still, it is a finely written poem – don’t change a thing!

    Liked by 1 person

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