The Blue Shed Poem by James Timothy Jarrett
The Blue Shed
She caught him out in the shed
Like a thief
Stealing a moment of pain
Wracked by sobs and pouring out tears
Over small and faded pink canvas shoes
The shoes had supplanted his purpose
Sapped his intent
They made his tools indifferent
And uncaring
Turned them into nothing more
Than rusting steel and hanging shapes
Outlined on musty pegboard
That meant nothing
Nothing at all
Until her small and gentle hands touched him
And in shame
He dried his eyes
And put the shoes away
Back in their box on the shelf
And became a man again
Lived again
And worked again
In his shed full of tools
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 2:42:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Your poems make me feel like crying sometimes. There is some stoic quality they possess, even in the hardest lines, that gets through my toughest exterior. Which is what good writing is all about. You are wearing their shoes without warning, without suspecting it was going to happen (or in this case, holding small pink shoes that have no wearer, any more. I too hide to shed my tears. My parents used to threaten me for crying, so I learned to do anything else rather than show my own tears. My parents weren't abusive, but I suspect they thought I would go on crying for hours on end if they didn't get stern with me, anyway that is my best guess.
Thank you Patti, you compliment me highly