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Cradle your son, Mary.
He is gone a while.
Sunlight, refrigerated in earth.
Stored up, like breath
held - until we gasp
and catch it again -
Held in an egg, in a wing,
in a black eye, darting
- shiny and alert.
Held in the waiting
of thirst and hunger.
Held in a gliding flight
up a hill of wind that slopes
up, then down again,
the flyer floating
back down, silent as a blade of sun
that pierces a seed
and spills life into the ground.
Cradle your son, Mary.
He is gone a while.
~ Ruth M.
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67 comments:
Beautiful Ruth, very haunting.
Happy Easter
Exquisite. Happy Easter!
Mary
There is no work of art more stirringly heartbreaking than the Pieta, the image of which this poem recalls. I like the hope you've infused with your words.
It's hard sometimes to hold onto the melancholy of Good Friday - wanting to leap ahead to Allelujah. This poem sets just the right tone for the day...
Beautiful Ruth, thanks for sharing this lovely poem.
So beautiful. Where does it coem from ? Did you write it ?
Happy Easter
Hauntingly beautiful!!!
Very beautiful!
(o)
Beautiful! ;)
Good Friday is such a sad day. I have to remember to look forward to Easter
Happy Easter Ruth. xo
That was beautiful! Happy Easter Ruth!
Perfect for this somber Good Friday that's contrasted with the full-blown events of Spring.
Happy Easter, Ruth.
I like your plate of eggs – you can see that they come from a variety of breeds. Isn’t the little egg from a Bantam? Happy Easter, if you celebrate it or have a nice week-end, if you don’t.
Thank you Ruth, It's so lovely!
Happy Easter to you and your family.
A sad yet beautiful poem Ruth.
An appropriate reminder for Good Friday.
So beautiful, wrenching beautiful.
I had a fleeting thought earlier today, that I hadn't prepared anything grand for Easter. No special meal, no Easter dress, nothing.
But this poem is a gift I will return to again and again this Easter. Thank you. He Lives.
Stunning imagery, dear Ruthie!
Happy Easter to you and yours!
Lovely poem! Did you know that Sam Mills, Marilyn Basel, and Lansing Online all have poem-a-day projects for April going on? Here's Sam's:
http://adequatesymbol.blogspot.com/
Here's Lansing Online's Poem-a-day:
http://lansingonlinenews.com/category/arts/poemaday/
And Marilyn's is on her Facebook page. Lots of bursts of spring creativity!
"Sunlight, refrigerated in earth". The images you paint with your words are breathtaking. And the images you create with your lens equally so.
I am completely charmed by the ceramic figurine with your beautiful eggs.
Just beautiful. Have a wonderful Easter.
Your words, your poem - how fortunate we are that you take the time to write them, that we can feel the swoop and hope in them.
And tell me about the egg picture...all real? those are the natural colors? Why do I love such pictures? (my kids tease me about my love for what they call "still life" pictures. But unlike a painted dish and pitcher and egg, fro example, a photo of such things, real, resonates deeply.
Happy Easter, R!
It's that sync again... and i'm glad for two reasons. First is that this is a wonderful way to kick off National Poetry Month. Second, and even more importantly, the meaning of Easter deserves to be mulled on in a deeper and fresher way, like what you've done here poetically. And the sync: I too was moved to use a poem for my Easter post. I just love these vibes.
Happy Easter,
I too was looking at the eggs, and noticed the little one.
Great poem. Did you take a long time to write it.
All that holding, Ruth, and now our lungs are full again. What a beautiful piece for our reflection!
Oh, Ruth -- this poem is more beautiful than any sermon I have ever heard. And the illustrations are lovely. Hope your Easter was very happy.
I really like this, and when I read it I echo it with a parallel between "held" and "hero" :
"held in an egg,in a wing"
(hero in the egg, winged hero)
and the sunlight contained is like Jesus, hero.
Thanks.
"Home made" eggs of all sizes and colours, home made poetry... What better could we wish?
Perfect, like an egg. And the refrain (can I call it that?), oh that quality of pushing the rhythm, cradling the images between like a shell. You are one fine poet, my friend.
Lovely. Hope you had a wonderful Easter.
Bella
What a beautiful bounty of eggs...and a lovely poem as well...glad I found your wonderful blog!
Thank you, Gwei Mui. Happy Spring.
Pauline, grief without hope is unbearable, I guess. I've never felt it, thankfully.
Dana, the way you put that is brilliant.
Thank you, RoSe.
Thank you, Cusp. Yes, I wrote it.
Thank you, Marcie.
Brenda, thank you.
PurestGreen, thank you, I think, though I don't know what that means. :)
Thank you, Babs. :)
California Girl, grief without hope would be a terrible way to exist.
xo
Thank you, ♥ Kathy.
Thank you, CottageGirl. I was sorry to hear about poor Tony's full-blown flu.
Thank you, Vagabonde, Happy Spring to you.
The little egg was a first egg of one of the Aracauna chickens.
Anet, oh hello, it's been a while. Thank you. Happy Spring to you and your family.
Thanks, Barry. It must have been a devastating day. They didn't know there was hope.
Terresa, that's interesting. We don't do anything special at Easter. Maybe we will when grandkids come. This year it happened to be Don's birthday, and that was all I thought about.
Thank you for you kind comment. I hope you will feel much better quickly.
Thank you, Susie, may your family celebrate each other every day!
Loring, it's a month of poetry goodness! And when I posted this, I didn't realize it.
(I'm a little slow, especially these days, when I have to be fast at work.)
That is a beautiful poem and photos, Ruth.
Hi Ruth, hope all is well.It is day 5 and no post... your a 3 day girl?
Just hoping all is well that's all.
Thank you so much, Dutchbaby. That phrase you mentioned was actually one I used in a long-ago poem, but it seemed appropriate for this one.
The Staffordshire figurine was Grandma Olive's, one of my treasures, even with its broken horn. I was so touched by the mother-child sense, and that was what inspired this poem-post.
Thanks, Pat, Happy Spring!
Thank you, Oh. Yes, the eggs are naturally those colors, the breeds of chickens that lay them are called "Easter Eggers." The olive egg is a mix of Aracauna and a Cuckoo Maran; the light greens are Aracaunas. The speckled is a Cuckoo Maran. And the medium brown is a Cochin.
I guess I really go for photographs of these still lifes too. Thank you for your wonderful comment.
Arti, I am way too busy at work. I realized it especially when you said it is National Poetry Month, and I hadn't even known it. I guess it was synchronicity. Now I'm thinking about posting only poems in April, with photos.
Your poem is very heartfelt and reminded me of Jerusalem, which I loved.
Ruth, I've come quite late to your post, but even though Good Friday is come and gone, your poem is still fresh and lovely. It takes a special gift to write poetry like this, I think. Quite beautiful.
And those eggs!!
Hi, Ann, I never get tired of seeing the eggs come out of Don's pockets after he's gathered them.
Thank you about the poem. I'd say this poem took a couple of hours.
Boots, thank you. What a deep grief to lose him.
Jeanie, what an incredible comment, thank you very much. You reminded me of the praise my mom used to give my dad after he preached Sundays.
We had a happy Easter, thank you, it was Don's birthday!
Montag, thank you. I think of him being everything, in everything. Word. Light. Love.
"Hero" surprises me a bit, I have to say. Getting my head around it. It's like combining Jesus and baseball. And that's cool actually. But maybe I'm just a "victim" of my culture that talks way too much about heroes who aren't really, and the word has lost some of its luster. You think?
Thanks, Peter, Happy Spring to you.
Dear DS, you say just the right things, my literary friend. Thank you for that.
Thank you, Bella.
Thank you, and welcome, Stacie. Your comment is very kind.
Thank you, Sandy.
Cathy, I love you for asking, thank you. I'm fine, just in the busy season at work, and this year it's having an affect on my home time, just slowing me down a little. New post soon!
Thank you, Deborah. Grief and hope are neverending themes, it's never too late to consider them. I appreciate your kind words.
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