The Teddy Bear World (Poetic Prose)

The Teddy Bear World
(Poetic Prose)

I got thinking today, of the stuffed animals, teddy bears, I used to have as a young boy, they were well made when I was a child, so completely put together, as I remember, I had eighteen, pressed them against me, hugging them, they came one day into my imaginary world and stayed for years, some I had for years, others newly delivered by my mother on my birthdays and Christmas’, all colors, China dark eyes, on my panda bear. To me, they came from a mystery world, without the pain of growing up, or even birth, and all of a sudden they were there, in the attic bedroom when I wanted to visit them. Waiting among my shoes and the ceiling the exposed chimney, for me to return, and I never questioned them; I just grew up with them. In dreams I dragged them into the sky. I never planned my adulthood, I was sure I’d outgrow them, they were always around me, empty for advise, but sensible. I knew they were stuffed, stuffed hearts, and sewed on eyes, no tongues. I lay silently at night with them, hoarding my little bed, and they had dignity, no rituals, they never examined me for flaws. At night, they seemed to fall asleep, in their tiny teddy bear beauty, I looked at them, as if they were sleeping, when I had to let the last one go, because I grew up, from that year I had a small hole in my heart, a deaf spot, I left it that way, so I might hear the unsaid words they might have wanted to say, if they could have said something, but of course they never left any words for me, except the fact that they made my world a little better for me to endure, and I still think whoever sewed them together, knew that.

No: 2417 7-23-2008