Poem of the Fortnight
Taking a break from stripping wallpaper, remembering that tomorrow is the seventh anniversary of my mother’s death. Since I have no new poems, here is one I read at Mom’s memorial service.
Beachcombing for Grace
Searching among tidal wrack of crab carapaces,
sea urchins, driftwood and cigarette butts,
I want a certain shell for a sign,
yet knowing it won’t appear bidden
I still find solace in waves and seabirds, clouds
and toddlers shrieking in the surf.
When she still remembered
my mother told me how
she swam when she was young
and loved the ocean
showing me pictures of her
She still loves living near the ocean
thousands of miles
and three-quarters of a century later.
I learned to swim at four
in the Newmarket municipal pool.
Wearing only panties
(quite all right in 1949)
I trusted my teacher’s safe hands
holding me in the water
and thank him with every stroke today,
one day I reached for it on my
memory’s shelf where it had always been
and it was gone.
My mother can’t remember
my sister doesn’t know
Helping my mother prepare for more family visitors,
I find the shell I sought on the beach, waiting for me on a corner shelf.
When I tell her, she gives it to me without a thought.
One day maybe I’ll be like her
giving my children unexpected gifts while
making them impatient
trying to remember
who taught them to swim.
Since I have already shared the North Sea beach picture, here is a photo of Mom as a young woman–that beautiful skin and gorgeous marcelled hair!
Blogs I Follow
- Julie Powell - Photographer & Graphic Artist
- Poet Kate Hutchinson
- ABSTRACT RECEPTION
- Yellingrosa's Weblog
- A Madarasachap Muslim
- Deb Breton
- Susan Rushton
- Briana Cooper
- Yuba Gold
- Letters & notes
- A Young Retirement
- Matt Schinner's Neo-Expressionism
- leaf and twig
- lemanshots - Fine Pictures and Digital Art
- DEAR DETECTIVE
- nat uhing's portfolio
- Ollie On The Move