As she writes in her diary
There behind the doorway’s frame
a child blooms, inscribing secrets,
revealing magic in her mind.
Sparks flash, flickering lights,
dancing embers scent the air,
offering some mystical place inside.
Lashes flutter up and down,
sweeping eyes like paper fans.
She sharpens thoughts
with every rising blink.
I sit in silence, and subtle winds
whir around the room.
Read to me, my little cherry;
once I was the branch that held you
close, as you drank life from me,
turning riper with every wanted sip.
But these are only psalms of praise,
prayers I chant that no one hears,
and I fool myself in believing
I'll live to see her old.
There behind the doorway’s frame
a child blooms, inscribing secrets,
revealing magic in her mind.
Sparks flash, flickering lights,
dancing embers scent the air,
offering some mystical place inside.
Lashes flutter up and down,
sweeping eyes like paper fans.
She sharpens thoughts
with every rising blink.
I sit in silence, and subtle winds
whir around the room.
Read to me, my little cherry;
once I was the branch that held you
close, as you drank life from me,
turning riper with every wanted sip.
But these are only psalms of praise,
prayers I chant that no one hears,
and I fool myself in believing
I'll live to see her old.
A shudder of love
When you leave,
who'll rub your milk-bottle
shoulders
and follow, as you sleepwalk
barefoot
through gardens in
chrysanthemum dreams?
Who'll line your path with lilac
cradles,
offering a place for rocking and
resting,
as your feet still remember
bearing weight
like casters on blonde wooden
floors.
You were my hummingbird on
rainy days,
when sadness ate through me like
willow-leaf beetles
until I was brown and full of holes,
yet you still found shade to perch
your soul
and sing your song. How will he
know
you’ve been my savior, treat you
accordingly,
you goddess of wonder, kitten of
mine?
Dare I show you this single tear
that’s gathered daily, until I'm
finally able
to wash my hair in a cup of losing
you?
Tell him your mother is sharp like
passion-fruit,
mildly poisonous but mostly
sweet.
When you leave,
who'll rub your milk-bottle
shoulders
and follow, as you sleepwalk
barefoot
through gardens in
chrysanthemum dreams?
Who'll line your path with lilac
cradles,
offering a place for rocking and
resting,
as your feet still remember
bearing weight
like casters on blonde wooden
floors.
You were my hummingbird on
rainy days,
when sadness ate through me like
willow-leaf beetles
until I was brown and full of holes,
yet you still found shade to perch
your soul
and sing your song. How will he
know
you’ve been my savior, treat you
accordingly,
you goddess of wonder, kitten of
mine?
Dare I show you this single tear
that’s gathered daily, until I'm
finally able
to wash my hair in a cup of losing
you?
Tell him your mother is sharp like
passion-fruit,
mildly poisonous but mostly
sweet.
When I forget your birthday
I fear the day when you will look and see
that nothing staring back will be the only
part still left of me, except you might
hold on and find a glimmer of despair,
one tiny fragment, since I once was there.
But child it will be hard to let you know
that everything we once held dear slipped
down
and through me like a sieve: I felt it go.
You might suggest the things we used to
do,
yet like a chapel’s wall where souls are
filing through
I will have left that body, though you’ll
never hear
the voice that signals leaving in your ear.
Be certain child, I will have said goodbye,
although you won't have known the sign; it
came and went, disguised within an arc, or
rainbowed lie.
A vacuumed life inside a bag that broke,
your name
escapes me when you stroke my hair and
sigh.
Don't pity me, for I am no forget-me-not:
Forgotten flower, I have an inner core
and all the memories of every hour,
though they were long before.
I fear the day when you will look and see
that nothing staring back will be the only
part still left of me, except you might
hold on and find a glimmer of despair,
one tiny fragment, since I once was there.
But child it will be hard to let you know
that everything we once held dear slipped
down
and through me like a sieve: I felt it go.
You might suggest the things we used to
do,
yet like a chapel’s wall where souls are
filing through
I will have left that body, though you’ll
never hear
the voice that signals leaving in your ear.
Be certain child, I will have said goodbye,
although you won't have known the sign; it
came and went, disguised within an arc, or
rainbowed lie.
A vacuumed life inside a bag that broke,
your name
escapes me when you stroke my hair and
sigh.
Don't pity me, for I am no forget-me-not:
Forgotten flower, I have an inner core
and all the memories of every hour,
though they were long before.
Copyright © 2007 Lavender Isis. All Rights Reserved.
| Poetry by Carol Lynn Grellas |
Carol Lynn Grellas |