Sidewalk sky, flat, gray, no sun-bright spot, dimly glowed overhead

Even the svelte and flexible co-eds in their short and slinky dresses

Did not twinkle . Only the Carolina blue of the cap and gowners shone

On this overcast commencement day.


My oldest child, son, who as a toddler looked like grandmother dandelion,

Frowzy white hair like a halo and who ran a certain way

that was instantly recognizable on a baseball or

football field, floated incognito in the blue flourescence. 

I called his cell.

He waved. We saw him. Parents, grandparents, all fat with pride.


They did not call his name. They did not call anyone’s name that was not famous. 

But this group of kids was surging and rising in their

Great wave of billowing sateen toward the uncertainty 

of financial crisis and record breaking unemployment and war overseas.

Still the crowd of them heaved and rolled, the only brightness in that gray day.


Some of us looked up and thought their future looked like the sky.

Some of us looked at them and were blinded by their shine.



Bettina Colonna Essert(May 10th, 2009)


Written in memory of Randall’s commencement, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.


About Bettina Colonna Essert

Illuminated Magdalene High Priestess and facilitator of empowerment and healing circles for girls and women, including a monthly Red Tent Temple. BA in English, minor in anthropology. Waldorf homeschool mom. Reiki master, cranial sacral therapist, herbalist, menstruvist, feminist, epicurian.
This entry was posted in children, family, Randall, writing: poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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