Playground by David Park
Playground
David Park
In the spheres the playgrounds
are alive!
Excitement pours forth in laughter and tears.
What’s now and what’s next
is felt as the vibrations ripple through the air.
Rising up through the trees to echo down the fading memory of childhood.
In our time, this ever achingly brief blink, as of a child’s tear filled eye,
we kneel to honor these moments.
To honor the child, the Mother and
the Father.
We, in our capacity to hold open our hearts, call forth blessings not bestowed on us.
The singularity of eternity expands in the presence of our presence. Fear and sadness let loose, anger and pain softened.
We rise to our next kneeling. Holding fast and fleetingly to unheard hymns.
To the faintness of spirit gesturing us on towards sleep.
We soften.
We drink from the deep waters of our resiliency that is finding its way into parts of our healing.
And, we sleep and dream in the spheres of our own playground.
In the echoes of laughter
More from David Park ↓
- This poem is inspired by David’s years at Play Mountain Place, where children are free to learn
Mentioned in this episode:
One Poem Only submissions are open.
This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us after we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, a book, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.
