Bearhug
Griffin calls to come and kiss him goodnight
I yell ok. Finish something I'm doing,
then something else, walk slowly round
the corner to my son's room.
He is standing arms outstretched
waiting for a bearhug. Grinning.
Why do I give my emotion an animal's name,
give it that dark squeeze of death?
This is the hug which collects
all his small bones and his warm neck against me.
The thin tough body under the pyjamas
locks to me like a magnet of blood.
How long was he standing there
like that, before I came?
Commentary
This poem could be the poster-child for Deconstruction, it lends itself so well. Everytime you think you have them all, another binary hits you in the face, or skirts across your mind’s eye. I haven’t ever read anything else by Ondaatje, but Bearhug makes me want to.
— Alan
Links
Biography
http://mtmt.essortment.com/biographyofmac_rqzo.htm
Collection of Ondaatje links:
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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Deepak Srinivasan · 18 August 2003
i scanned this poem because recently by chance i read parts of micahel’s “English Patient” and “Anils ghost”. I think English Patient got the bookers prize. While I find his prose work vaguely irritating this poem was very good. Except that humorously, how different his perception of bearhug and mine is. For me, mostly, a bearhug reminds me of the “bare necessities” from jungle book(cartoon version), one of my favorite disney movies and a thoroughly dreamy, utopian vision. /Deepak
Jay Watts · 11 September 2006
As a parent, single and a poet, this one has special meaning to my son and I.
I believe it should be shared with all parents. We all chreish that hug and sometimes are more reluctant to let go than our child is.
Keep up the great work. Only one small suggestion/request- have someone spell-check.
jw