Words Taking Shape

I knew this as a child My mother told me so She’d lay down in my bed at night And read a story slow. With my ears I’d carefully listen My eyes straight on the page But when my mind would wonder I’d carefully change my gaze. Not to the words or pictures Before my very eyes but The rectangles above my head Each one the very same size. The small rectangles up above Each one in its very own space Lined up so very perfectly The representation of perfect strength. Each wire connected carefully Like soldiers in a row One by one I’d counted them And she would never know. Then one day she noticed That my mind not fixed on her So she changed her voice to singing And I strangely looked at her. My eyes moved quickly to her eyes Then back to the story page It was shapes that filled my mind each night While her voice set the perfect stage. Now I open her eyes anew Where my mind would like to be And from that moment forward We both began to see. It wasn’t just the fabric or the wires that I saw But the very shape of rectangles, one big and many small. The large shape was of fabric and the small shapes were of wire An L an H and even a T I’d see during that half-hour. My mother liked words she read I liked all my shapes Binding our worlds that we create Perfectly together in our sacred space. She knew that I was special At the age of only two For I saw the world in shapes and lines And from many different views. Some shapes were round and some were square Like the rectangles up above And at night in bed where I’d lay my head She thought my vision profound. Although most shapes I observed alone Sometimes she’d point to others Like the moon up in the sky And ask what shape she’d discovered. Sometimes I saw a bright, full moon The shape of a perfect circle Or a crescent moon, which had turned its head Simply waiting to go to bed. The discovery of many shapes I’d see Through the words my mother spoke Enhanced the quiet thoughts I’d have Through exploring the shapes she invoked. Some were square as a jack in the box Others like stars in the sky But I’d have to say my favorite was The crescent moon up high. Just before the light turned off She tucked me into bed And I never forgot the words I said, “Look at the rectangles above my head.” Now my brother takes my place He will look above To the fabric mattress and wire springs That I have spoken of. I lay so much closer To the crescent moon above and smile when I think of how These thoughts and shapes discovered. Seeing is believing, and believing is to see Words can truly shape our thoughts And shapes define our being.