Sunday, 9 May 2010
Sherelyn sent me this evocative poem for Mother's Day to share with you:
WHEN I FEEL MOST LIKE HER by Judith Sornberger
When I stretch one small scrap of the world
across a hoop, forgetting everything
outside the wood. When I plant
a garden of cross stitches,
lay down my holy writs in magenta,
black, cornflower across linen.
When I run through drifts to drop
radish seeds into the snow,
loving the idea of the hard
red hearts pumping up inside
the silent earth more than I long
for their cool sting on my tongue.
When I ski beside Pine Creek,
my legs and arms remembering the way
back to some great-great grandmother
in Sweden. The hills a bolt of white
velvet unrolling out before me.
The trail, stitches I follow to her kitchen
where she's wedding seed pearls
to the bodice of a dress she'll wear once
and pass down to her daughter.
She stokes the stove, puts coffee on,
opens her back door to morning lying
like a gray-blue cloak over the snow.
She straps on skis and pushes off,
gliding through pink birches,
leaning toward sunrise, into the future,
breaking trail for my sweat, my heartbeat.
Her heart writing its one poem:
Posted by N E E D L E P R I N T at 10:44