Poetry is a photograph with words

Photos of the week…or…

Due to some technical issues, my photos of the week are tucked away, safely on a device where they will not be disturbed, until my husband returns from his musician’s retreat.

I offer you this instead, a day late.

How did I become a writer? Because the idea of taking a photograph with words fascinated me. Poetry is a photograph with words. It goes deeper than a photograph. Beyond the scene, it seeks to capture one moment of the emotion.

Let’s see if I succeed:

When I awake and see the rain my mind goes to sleepA dull sound echoes throughout the dayNot fierce enough to be a stormNor hopeful enough to bring a rainbowbut the steady downpour that covered the sky and house in s.png

And then…

a little hand between the daffodilsa small voice asserts her willdefying grammarimploring eyes intent to controla gentle cuddle restores my roleas s toddler's mother.png

 

Sad Haikus

These are from earlier in the week. The memories move back and forth in my heart, sometimes at the front, sometimes at the back, always there.

My peace is the belief in the communion of saints. As C.S. Lewis writes about the mother, it is “a comfort to the eternal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild.”

These haikus reflect that reality…our reality.

Feet.jpg

Daddy

 

He sits on a chair

Wishing her to sing her a song

Rocking her to sleep

 

No song will come out

She is already asleep

On her way to light

 

Tears fill up his eyes

A man who almost never cries

Cries to say goodbye

 

Silence fills the room

For death has taken her home

Little baby girl

 

Me

 

Filled with emptiness

Memories of silence

Warm blanket on her

 

Goodbye my sweet girl

For long I will not see you

Till I come to you

 

A life lived in fear

Waiting for another grief

Mark left on my heart

 

I don’t know your cry

I never saw you alive

I don’t know your touch

 

Hands.jpg