Women used to cut off a digit, took a stick of charcoal
from a funeral fire and smudged their brows,
cropped their hair, hung bunting on their doors,
wore black, blackest black, for a year ~
but I have only this garden to gut
dusty chaff of corn stalks, turning good ground over
by digging as deep as one can, gathering straw
to cover what might live through the night or the season,
this is heart-sinking work, this
oh, yes, tell me there are tomorrows
and birthdays, and angels, and that I should rejoice
but I am not listening ~
I am busy slaughtering summer’s past promises,
intent on making sure there is no evidence
of any kind of beauty that was
or I will long even worse for what passed
I am fall cleaning; the wheelbarrows are put away;
heavy clothing brought out and hung to freshen
in some brisk, stiff breeze; drapes are changed
from their sheers to be replaced by shrouds,
shut-out what’s going on, keep inside in,
lock the shutters in place, bolt bulkheads and tool shed,
bring out scraper and armfuls of dry wood to sing
when something needs warming
muffle sounds with storm windows, tighten door jambs
and doorknobs; take down Welcome signs, hide bushes
under burlap sacks
this is grieving time, god knows and allows, and so,
let me wrap myself in this stop-breath moment
until I get used to this brown, loose-woven garb of grief
in a garden that sings beautifully in its new pit
Author notes
Just cleansing
Prompt link - all this magic went unnoticed by =penguina-mica
http://penguina-mica.deviantart.com/art/all-this-magic-went-unnoticed-142902796
In a list
- Beautiful Words by Beautiful People I Know • next in list
- Gold Poetry • next in list
- A Woman's Writhe • next in list
A contest entry
- Art Prompt Contest (ages 16 and above only) Favorites Welcome to Enter by Night Hope.
1200 points, ended November 16, 13 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Being absolutely immersed in the tasks of a day, of a moment... There is wisdom in this behavior, Carol. Where each nuance is taken in. It isn't avoidance. It is complete presence... nods:
"...let me wrap myself in this stop-breath moment
until I get used to this brown, loose-woven garb of grief
in a garden that sings beautifully in its new pit"
I think of these lyrics written by Leonard Cohen:
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2PqbZ_-4p8
very touching, expressive writing, Scribe
Well-deserved congratulations on gold, honey...
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Oh ty, Simone.... this perfect offering...that song can make me weep...as I said, it sings to my bones.
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((((((you))))))
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As one who has deeply grieved... thank you.
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Ty, Shibboleth, and may you find comfort here amongst friends, as I do!
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This piece in its entirety is stunning, but ohhh, your final stanza brought the tears, my Sister. How I wish I could be there to help you, how I wish any of us could be helped through such grief...but I know it is a path we must walk alone. 
Our arms are surrounding you, my Sister, from one end of the world to the next. Thank you for entering this ragingly beautiful piece in my contest, Carol.
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And I have felt them, and I have be lifted by them! and ty for the gold.
to you!
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Yes, Carol. Thank you for this. All the well-wishing is appreciated, but cannot dig down beneath where we hurt to root it out. It is something we must do ourselves, with our faith and our memory. Beautiful heart here.
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It is that, indeed, the digging down, scraping off the 'stuff' above, and bruishing off that true gem of what that person meant ot us. This I have done and now take off the black ribbons from my doors, as I am ready now, to allow her to be where she needs to be without my grief drawing her back to comfort me. ty sister-friend
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