Lineage

lineage

 

‘Here at last is the thing I was made for.’ “

  1. C. S. Lewis 

From vintage cloth, a rabbit rises —

cut out & stuffed with straw. Plaything for a child

that has the soul of a room and person

sewn in. Their story breathable in the plain weave,

permeable through dreams as the boy sleeps.

A calico hare leads him into a strange kitchen.

where a woman lays her head against the table

crying. The oak around her polished yet somber

as coffin wood. A single lamp burns & spare change

( left from the rent) gleams in the light. A window

casts its shadow on the worn timber with thin

branches in the framework. A Calendar page

that marks the passing of leaves and birds. Laundry

on a backyard clothesline and her last days

in a cottage where she has taken shelter

from the road and field. Slowly, she unties her apron

and throws it on the floor. A cotton bed of flowers

left for someone else– to gather up and use.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 comments

  1. “From vintage cloth, a rabbit rises —”

    Word weaver extraordinaire!

    Wendy,

    You take us on a journey into her soul.

    This whole poem reads as ancient and wise, and at the same time,
    timeless.

    “Slowly, she unties her apron

    and throws it on the floor. A cotton bed of flowers

    left for someone else– to gather up and use.”

    Past and future bridged by that act.

    So very much enjoyed!

    sarah

    Like

  2. Hi Sarah

    Thanks so much for the lovely commentary on this poem!! Heirloom cloth and objects made from it, possess a history and the soul of someone who used it beforehand. There is something special about that! So glad you liked this poem, that means a lot to me!

    Take care,
    Wendy

    Like

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