She saved things,
as if there would be a resurrection
of who she used to be
a shapeless seed, stirring in dust
shifting in sifted attic light
streaming in through lead glass
pictures with no names,
fading as if to disappear completely
yet, were she here, she could tell me
what these people meant to her
a dry rose; her cheeks leathery
but eyes’ glitter gratitude
that at least she has these
boxed memories
that will be divided up
only by importance others place on them
and I shall choose only those
that hold you in them, Mother
Author notes
prompt: attic
A contest entry
- Copy Cat by FindingFaith.
300 points, ended October 31, 2007, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
wow.
the sequence, straightforward narration shifting seamlessly to precise, minute description... you have written about this so well, honoring her, describing perfectly this challenging moment caught between past and present, the loss and the concrete pieces you have left to hold onto of your mother's life.
poetically masterful as well, the alliteration, the line and stanza breaks, the details and the description.
i'm not so sure about the title, but otherwise, awesome job! -
I think we are all guilty of saving something in hopes of being resurrected. Nice.
-
Beautiful Piece Good Luck in the contest
-
so beautiful... soft and full of feelings one might have about things that connect us to the people in our lives... so very well done...PK
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