Barren as my daughter’s cradle
Her quilt still folded neatly
I contemplate my reflection
Eclipsed by kitchen light
As I sift through piles of dishes
And memories of dinner blessings
And holding hands
Hands so small and soft and full of life
I take in my world through timid eyes
Squinting for fear of being seen
Like a child who hides her face
And wonders where you are
I find myself
Hidden in years of mothering,
Still as the doll perched on the dresser
Waiting to be found by those searching
One morning I discover myself
Draped across the sun-dappled sheets
Exposed as the unforgiving colors
Emblazoned on a white canvas
Remote treasure now unearthed
Wild vines spring forth
Boasting tender full berries
Awaiting hands to set them free
Lips to exploit soul’s yearning
Such voluminous flow
Overcomes the page, the portrait
Still life no longer still
I open the bedroom door
Into a new day
A beautiful poem and beautiful children…thank you for sharing.
Your poetry is stunning Anne. We really need you posting regularly at Riversleigh and beyond. The daily practice will sustain you and bring you well and truly out of hiding.
Open the door of your blog and step out into the appreciation of many mothers, crones and artists who want to share your work!
Absolutely lovely.