Tender

Raccoon, bread, apple by Bink


Tender.

Unless I am speaking of meat,
which I mostly don’t,
the very word owns its ness,
as in,
what is tender
evokes tenderness,
and what calls that forth in me
is that which I am drawn towards,
or s/he whom I draw close,
or want to.

Draw close,touch,
be connected with, and to—
it’s like a song whose notes
sidle up beside each other
and seem happily married,
or a poem that dances
smoothly,
word to word,
meant to be silken,
not rough and chopped
like this one.

Tender.
Tenderness.

Decades ago, as a young mother, I joined a playgroup with the odd name of Warmlines. I was lonely in my complete consummation with motherhood, and with my baby. The group name continued to strike me as odd, until recently.

I am thinking of the people in my awareness that are hurting, that are celebrating, that are lonely, and tired, and scared. There are mothers whose adult children have complex special needs ( like my Bink) , and they are trying to hold their ground in choppy waters, and I so get this and I feel connected to their pain. There is the friend from a writing group who has recently been diagnosed with incurable brain cancer. I’ve never met her in person, but she is a sister of the pen. I can only hold her image in my heart, and pour small offerings of caring into her hands, her mouth, as I trek through my days. There is a friend whose brother has mental illness, and his dangerous behavior pulls something from my depths which reaches out to her. There is my dear Aunt, recently diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, and my beautiful friend M who mourns the loss of her mother.

On the celebratory front, my niece is blossoming in her first independent teaching job, living in her own apartment. One of my Yogabilities™ students is in a new day program, an art program for adults with disabilities that encourages her immense talent and will also market her work. My own Bink is creating rather wonderful art in an afternoon class nearby. She also began horseback riding a year ago, and she has exceeded my expectations with her interest and ability.

There are so many more, people I know online, in person, people I know of through friends or family, all dealing with the sticky stuff of life. When I think about them, I visualize myself floating in a kind of emotional outer space, connected to each of these people, who are also floating. There are slender but strong ropes growing out from my body to theirs, or perhaps they originate from each of the others and find their way to a temporary home in my heart. The ropes are purple, and there is an energy pulsing through them; the energy of connection and compassion. That’s when it hit me. Warmlines. Tentacles of caring, linking us to one another as we journey through life. So tender, so very tender.

–Melinda Coppola

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