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Among my pictures
are framed smiles of tender youth
saved in sepia, black and white, color.

Missing are images of some
living only within me now,
some that do not show the look,
or light of eye, or rivers of warmth
flowing the lifelines of my hands,
my heritage.

Remembered snippets,
a whispered whistle, tunelss under her breath,
clacking knitting needles commanded by fingers
that were never still, and  mirth that often
spilled ephiphanies when she laughed,
a little out of sync, after the fact ~

The zig-zag cut of my bangs
when the scissors appeared
and the command to hold still ~

Simply cinnamon anticipation
she held for us children, Saturdays, the way
we held savor for the rolls in the oven,
simple joy with no remorse
for shoulds or should nots~

Kindness, honesty, manners
the bread, the leaven,
and dreams born of white cotton,
sheets washed in pure possibility.


Melodious arrows forever lodge in soul,
trace the place where others go,
he and she, who called a small lass
"Pet," saved her cornflower bouquets
and her heart for eternity, in a small
space, safe where thunder rattled
mountains, and lighting wounded
the sky with purple vengeance ~

The creak of an old pump,
indentured servant of yesteryear,
coming with a warning not to taste
the frost it bore in winter, and
a memory of large white buttons
sewn on a red nylon dress ~

The smell of peppermint and tobacco
in the pocket of Grandad's Dickies ~
the wild shock of gray hair standing on end
where his forehead came to rest on stacked fists,
the after-dinner table his only place to snooze,
once appetite was sated with biscuits and gravy ~

Offspring grown, found roots indigenous
to seasons of return, sharing
each day, new, and bright with promise,

Stories grew hopes around that table:
adventures, misadventures
and home... my heart,
where they still gather, framed

with love.





Author notes

Carol, I know you have a heritage of strength and wondrous heart, too. I am sorry for the passing of your mother, and with the tears, may the joy of her being comfort you. Hugs...

Love to you ~ Karen

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Comments

1 - 10 of 10

  • Cup-a-Joe
    November 17
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    Edit | Reply

    Karen,

    This is really beautiful. Memories that we hold dear to us. Simple times - Hard times-Fun times, it all is written in our minds.
    I kept cutting and was gonna paste my favorite parts, and realized I had the entire thing cut.

    Joe


    • klassy lassy
      November 17
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      Joe, I thought of some of the things you shared with me about your life when I wrote this. I know that family extends beyond blood, and I could envision your heart easily among those of my lineage. Thank you for reading and for keeping it all intact!


  • CarolDesjarlais silver member
    November 11
    ?
    Edit | Reply
    Beatuifully done, touching and tender.


  • Nicolette gold member
    November 7

    Edit | Reply
    I agree with Tom - this is so you, Karen, and so very beautiful; such a rich collage of a life here, so much love and light.

    ~ Nicolette


    • klassy lassy
      November 13
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      So much comes at odd moments and I know the love is still vibrant with life!


      Karen


  • tomisb
    November 6

    Edit | Reply
    Stunning. So totally you and the way you became you, such a song of love and the room full of the parent energy.
    Love,
    Tom B.

    • klassy lassy
      November 13
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you, Tomis. The energy is everpresent as love and legacy. They are part of me, and I am so fortunate in that way. The heritage is rich with heartspeak, despite the times that I miss being able to hug them physically.

      (Computer is still down...) ~K


  • Night Hope gold member
    November 6

    Edit | Reply
    There is such a deep sense of sentimentality within this compassionate penning, my Friend.
    I know, in coming days, that Carol will find succor and solace within the words of the ones who love her. Of course, healing from such immediate grief will take a long time, and it's not something we ever truly "get over", but with passing time, it will begin to ebb and flow somewhat, allowing sweet memories to penetrate the sorrow she now feels. This is a wonderful offering, Sweetie. I know she will hold it close to her surging heart. Good luck in William's contest, Lady.



1 - 10 of 10