We traveled to his home
on the narrow coastal plain
along the Mediterranean sea.
It was nestled in Caesarea
where the sunset
took my breath away.
took my breath away.
The blue sky filled with pink
and an inviting orange.
I was seven or eight
but I was an old soul.
but I was an old soul.
I felt like I carried the
world on my shoulders.
The party inside
was all that I had imagined
except I remained outside
with my brother and the chauffer.
Mom said that I was too young
which made me feel small.
I wanted to walk among his art
and breathe it in.
Wander into a painting
and feel the sand under my feet.
Wander into a painting
and feel the sand under my feet.
I wanted to feel his art
seeping from his walls
seeping from his walls
giving life
to his famous Galilean hills.
to his famous Galilean hills.
His view harmonious
and his reality filled
with grace
in which foes could be friends.
and his reality filled
with grace
in which foes could be friends.
I wanted to look into the fire
in his eyes
in his eyes
knowing it came from deep
inside his soul.
inside his soul.
His passion
that brought life
to blank canvases
that brought life
to blank canvases
filled with color.
He was inspired
by frescoes
his vision
not just seen but felt.
He was inspired
by frescoes
his vision
not just seen but felt.
I wanted to listen
to the conversation
to the conversation
about living in Paris
and his first exhibition in New York.
Bridges he built from the past
to a future he dreamed of.
I wanted to know
about being uprooted
and blooming in a new land
and society.
Bridges he built from the past
to a future he dreamed of.
I wanted to know
about being uprooted
and blooming in a new land
and society.
I wanted to hear the sounds
and pretend
not to listen to whispers
not to listen to whispers
when the conversation became edgy.
His art and life were one
and I understood that.
His art and life were one
and I understood that.
Mom said that I was too young
which made me feel small.
I never forgot the day that my family and associates were invited to the home of
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reuven_Rubin he was an icon.
I felt so insulted by my mom's decision
not to include my brother and I.
My mom was a loving mom but there are things we did not see eye to eye.
I told her that I would have never done that to my child.
When I became a mom she saw that I kept my word.
I never let my children feel left out and I included them in everything.
I love her and miss her but I am glad that I got a chance to tell her how I felt that day.
Please meet us here http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.
to be told we are too young def can make us feel small....esp when we feel that connection....to hearing the words....the art...i am sure that played in to your words and poetry today...
ReplyDeletei am glad you had that chance to have the conversation with her and share your thoughts...i have been pretty inclusive with my boys as well...that was i can be there as they experience it and help them manage it...
Too young doesn't always apply indeed, good you got to talk about it too
ReplyDeleteAh.. yes those occasions.. too young for what... see art (sounds strange to me..) but even worse having to stay outside... with that longing... I can understand how it affected you..
ReplyDeleteoh heck.. i can imagine how painful that must have been...esp. when you so desperately wanted to see it... good that you acted different with your own kids... i tried to include mine in whatever was possible as well
ReplyDeleteit is so interesting how adults forget how wise they once were, how intuitive understanding was honed and perhaps most developed in childhood
ReplyDeleteugh... it's like adults forget kids are people in a way... age has nothing to do with curiosity and it's a shame your mom took some of that away... I def relate to your being an old soul as a child... I was told that as a young'n :)
ReplyDeleteI think many children appreciate things beyond their years. It is too bad that sometimes parents don't see this when it comes to their own children; and once the opportunity passes it is gone forever. I am glad you had a chance to talk to your mother as well & that you do / did not follow this pattern with your own boys.
ReplyDeleteI like how your poem is a story as well as a reflection on your feelings when as a child you were made to feel left out. The repetition of 'I wanted' is very effective and shows you as an opinionated child. I am glad that, mostly, my parents did not make me feel I was too young. Maybe because I was the eldest.
ReplyDeleteYou became a better mother not for being different from your own mother, but for incorporating your own experience into your motherhood.
ReplyDeletekiss.
You might be disappointed back then - but now you have brought it back beautifully, smiles - and the depiction of the artist is just great.
ReplyDeleteSometimes adults treat children like small children ~ But I like that you turn your experience into something positive and what you are doing now for your children is a good thing ~ Happy Tuesday Ayala ~
ReplyDeleteI find it interesting to read everyone's poems about these experiences that shaped us, such as yours, which springs from a deeply felt conviction from a young age, wanting to right a wrong, or rewrite a wrong. My husband and I agree with your 7 year old self. We have always included all of our children in everything and they have benefited greatly from those experiences.
ReplyDeleteThey try to tell us we're too young
ReplyDeleteToo young, to really fall in love....
--Song from era late 40's-50's
They said I was was too young--and I WAS! So I left home early to "grow up!"
HAHA! Well, finally, I got old--but still have not grown up, I guess! ;-)
We continue to try and raise ours different--but somehow it works out.
ALL of it.
it's hard when people are blinded by age (especially when related)...when they don't take the time to see you for who you truly are or how an experience even at a young age might shape you...although (in a way) the actual experience did in turn shape who you now are.
ReplyDeleteGood reminder to keep our kids' interests in mind!
ReplyDeleteYour children are blessed by your tender heart-
ReplyDeleteALOHA from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral
=^..^= <3
I would have been delighted if my child had shown such an interest in being included like you had, Ayala. I'm glad that you shared your thoughts with your mother. A touching memory that you shared here...I could feel your smallness but also your large-ness in your strong words.
ReplyDeletewhen there is a good relationship between a mother and a child, communicating becomes (almost) effortless.
ReplyDeleteTrue ...he had the passion as you have or will find..I'm glad you are writing now in spite of the whispers ;)
ReplyDeletehated hearing that myself. Great write! ~jackie~
ReplyDeleteI think children should be seen and heard. But in past times, the opposite belief was held. I'm sure your Mom felt she was doing the right thing. Glad your kids are included, they don't feel small. Good write.
ReplyDeleteQuite obviously not too young at all. Great write, full of intelligence and sensitivity. Loved it!
ReplyDeleteStunning! at a young age you sipped those marvels of an art you yearned to see. I am glad that it resonates with you even today!
ReplyDeleteloved the details and emotions... what an experience you had
ReplyDeleteYou were, indeed, an old soul to so fully appreciate Rubin's art, and to want to personally experience it and to absorb what he communicated about it. It sounds as if you have retained this enthusiasm and built on it as you matured. I wonder if you were encouraged by your mother even though she had excluded you from this earlier encounter. Very sensitive write.
ReplyDeleteThank you for bringing me there, small and still able to enter a painting, yea, maybe even more so.
ReplyDeleteThose kind of exclusions, the ones that make us feel "less than," seem to haunt us throughout our lives, don't they? I would have loved to have been there, too.
ReplyDeleteThose kind of exclusions, the ones that make us feel "less than," seem to haunt us throughout our lives, don't they? I would have loved to have been there, too.
ReplyDeleteWas it this encounter that led you to poetry? Not sure why this answers the prompt, but I loved the poem and your relationship to the paintings, to the scene itself and to the artist.
ReplyDeleteThat you have such a strong and lasting memory of this event makes it clear that it influenced the person, and poet, you are today. I followed the link and enjoyed looking at Rubin's art.
ReplyDeleteYou did a great job of evoking that small feeling by contrasting the grandeur of the artist and your thirst for it, then to be denied. So often children are thought to not understand, when in fact they intuit and understand so much. Especially art
ReplyDeleteOh to be so denied! I sometimes think that adults don't quite realise how their words can belittle children - after all, when you are small, everything is about you, and so you take things personally. It's all part of the evolution from child to adult.
ReplyDeleteI am certain a part of you found this poem difficult to write. I've encountered the same in writing about my father. To honor them means that you have to acknowledge both parts: harmony and the discord.
ReplyDeleteLove the poem!
ReplyDeleteA beautiful poem filled with emotions ... loved it :-)
ReplyDeleteI loved your poem.
ReplyDeleteAnd I loved the title.
Even though you might have been small you so wanted to be included.
I am sure your children appreciate you for the mom you are to them.
Good writing.
I love the idea of walking into a painting. It must have been very disappointing not to be allowed in to the party. Wonderfully told, as always, my friend.
ReplyDeleteIsn't it amazing that you recall that feeling? My mom included me in travel and meals and knew I was an old soul too but I recall the "adult" trips and I remember feeling sad as well.
ReplyDeleteI so love everything about this. And reading this is so timely for me too...I have been trying to be more careful lately, making sure I don't let "younger" seem less important than being older and bigger. Beautiful poem!
ReplyDelete