I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

5 April 2010

Historical Record

She is a tall woman.
She came from long ago.

When she gets close enough
cold seeps into my bones.

I know that she can’t be
the one who was here last.

All those handy railings —
that one was short, like us.

I haven’t yet made time
to engage her in talk.

She is waiting to tell.
When there is time, I’ll hear.

(When the visitors go
and my husband’s asleep.)

Does she belong to house
or, older, to the land?

I glimpse her as white light.
I think her skin was dark.

April PAD Challenge 4
Prompt: A history poem (national, personal ...  the history of anything).

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