roses,
carnations,
mint.
My trunk of failures overturned
by your need,
and my humbling sorrow.
What is plenty, in a desert?
The bowl of your need I filled with double portions,
secreting my heart in the stitching of a new shoe.
From ashes,
roses,
carnations,
mint.
From distress, alchemy--
lead turned to gold.
______
for my son Joe--we have always been there for each other; light in dark skies.
and for Friday 55, hosted by the best poet I know, who I'm proud to call my BFF, Hedgewitch.
_______
This has a feel of life to it, Shay, I don't know how else to describe it. I can see and smell the freshness of the leaves and flowers you enumerate, all of them more medicinal in their vigor and beauty than they seemed just weeks ago when life was a taken for granted commonplace. The center two stanzas are rich with image and metaphor that ties together the inner and outer world with a sense of completion and fitness. A beautiful, meaningful 55, as only you could write, my dear friend. Thank you so much for adding this to the 55 word pile today,and have as kickass a weekend as one can only have stitched into a new shoe.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely, Shay, and I agree with Hedge; it has a feel of life.
ReplyDeleteYou filled the bowl of his need with double portions, and healed your heart. Children do that to us.......they are the gold in the dross and struggle of our lives. This is so beautiful, Shay.
ReplyDeleteWas getting worried when you hadn't posted in a few days! "secreting my heart in the stitching of a new shoe", takes us towards the unexpected, shifts our focus so we can come back into the home stretch. The power of human alchemy, of how our children grow out of our ashes and failures and are beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThis is unbelievably good. Such a rare gift you have. I am humbled by being allowed to read.
ReplyDelete“The bowl of your need I filled with double portions,
secreting my heart in the stitching of a new shoe.”
This made me think of pouring yourself into a gypsy, which is just what our children are. Travelers. They leave us. We raise them to.
And that’s exactly what we do — stitch our hearts into their shoes.
I feel this, deep.
This is a lovely tribute to your son, Shay. It says as much about you as it does your son. It's vulnerable and sacrificing and proud--all in one seamless piece.
ReplyDeleteHITF do you do it? Amazing.
It speaks to me of life..survival..reinventing oneself
ReplyDeletemakes me want to see my sons, who unfortunately are 400 miles and stay-in-place order distant ~
ReplyDelete