when stunted traffic jams dredge up
a plume of fetid air,
when smallish hills turn mountain-esque
and I lose sight of where,
when messy work is sprawling
and I'm pulling out my hair -
"there, there," you always say to me, "there, there."
if summer's out of loveliness
and winter's left me bare
if darkness leaves its shadow print
and light seems far too rare
if trying to run instead leaves me
just tripping on each stair -
"there, there," you always say to me, "there, there."
and in the midnight hour
when I'm locked inside my room,
attempting something of a birth
from this elusive womb
you steal in with a word or two
and wrestle me from doom,
then stay along until this bud
has turned itself to bloom.
4 comments:
you are making me swoon with these lovely words. very sweet and again... so you!
"...then stay along until this bud
has turned itself to bloom"
Your blooms give a fragrant that share light and grace. Your words speak to me...there there! Sweet blossom.
...Meanwhile in another land
Just right beside the moon
Lives one tired Mum
One frazzled plum
Who thinks she is a loon
But, lo, your words so ripe and rare
Make life much easier to bear
So if I may I'd like to say
From one fruit to another
Keep planting in your garden
Big thanks for all you share!
;-)
Kat
Oh Maya, I've been leafing back through your posts today, feeling as if I am settled into a cozy chair with a book of new poems, though I have been here before, wondering how it is that I don't have all your books on my shelf of favourite photographers and poets.
I love your blog.
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