The Touch By J-T Kelly

The Touch

Our children, once contained inside our house,
Are loose — their sins now in the sun, like ours.
We made for them a little world. It’s loss
Does not seem loss to them. They felt as bars
The fences, the embraces as restraint.
They love the sun, they love the open field —
And didn’t we? When did we first complain
That going out is bound to get them killed?

Were they contained, though — ever? At their first
Cry, wasn’t every safe enclosure pierced?

We built a training ground, loved it too much,
Now grieve it, comically. Or, less severe —
Our garden, silent now, yields gentle tears.
We should plant new. Or have we lost the touch?

J-T Kelly is an innkeeper in Indianapolis. He lives in a big brick house with his wife and 5 children, his parents, and a dog.

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