Friday, March 23, 2007
Poetry from sunny Spain
My daughter is in Cordoba, Spain on a several month exchange. The young woman she lives with (Myriam) lived with us in Canada for three months in the fall. We talk now and then and we email a bit too. Today Zoey sent a poem she wrote - I like it.
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THIS HAND
Crease of my palm,
holds blue ink.
Holds history, and home.
Shed my skin, cell by cell.
Somehow, the memories stay.
They´re not of my mind,
they´re the stories that are told
by my fingerprints,
by my chewed nail,
this writing callus.
I cant lose, re use, recycle, or deny
it's why I sit here
and appear as I do,
to eyes
seen and unseen
to minds
lost and redeemed.
This hand.
From mother, father, child and lover
of earth and air,
release and despair.
I owe this hand
my secrets and lies
the things it unties
in my heart
and my mind
by the simple task of holding
this pen.
Comments:
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Gary,
CNN just did a story this morning on Nelson, BC regarding the community of US war deserters.
Nelson looks a beautiful town.
When they mentioned Nelson BC, I knew that town rang a bell.
Try to catch the story if you can.
CNN just did a story this morning on Nelson, BC regarding the community of US war deserters.
Nelson looks a beautiful town.
When they mentioned Nelson BC, I knew that town rang a bell.
Try to catch the story if you can.
in between 'things' I'm quickly checking some blogs.. I love this picture..somehow, it is really evocative. At this point, pictures not words speak to me.. must be my wondering soul who needs to look out of a more interesting window..
awwww..lol
Ingrid
awwww..lol
Ingrid
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