There’s a news flash today
Oh wait,
in the new world order
there is always breaking headlines
President Trump tweeted…
Elevator to the 2nd floor landing
a certain familiar quiet
greets the stilled entry
into the sunroom
where a small spider
glides smoothly
knitting a web
hung on silver space.
In the corner
next to Apartment 201
is where Mr. Abrams, Cookie Maker lived
before he died
abruptly…
Ah, who fears death, they ask
He never gives you more than you can bear
say the people who pray
for safe travels, lost rings and stock growth.
Not all spiders are content web weavers
the venomous bite
of a Brown Recluse spider
can weave scars in memory
long, long after they bite.
Before school,
I tiptoe into my mother’s room
where she lays in fever
pain streaks across her face
learning too late
about brown legs
silently crawling
up green leaves
along the green house siding
that spider, a refugee
in those freshly trimmed bushes.
I had never seen my mother weak
drifting in limbo
poison and pain.
Then President Carter
flashes on the television screen
burdened, painfully immersed in
the hostage crisis…
It was a quiet day at the Embassy
in Tehran today
the days numbering off,
Day 10, Day 60, Day 120…
“Yankee Go Home!
The next move is up to the U.S.”
President Carter
a good man of faith
a true man of faith
not a subscriber
to Boot Strap Theory
he drifts from the limelight
the world carries on…
I shake that off now
gingerly packing up
the family Bible
touching the pages
with haunted fingers…
Now, I tiptoe into mother’s room
I hold her shaking hands
I never remember
her being so small
never saw her sit with her head
in her hands.
Even now I see
the wallpaper of the house painted green
those voracious holly bushes outside
the small kitchen
our breakfast every morning.
And I wonder about
this world of mothers and daughters
the cycles and spin of galaxies
the time capsules of grief.
broussardlana.wordpress.com 
L.T. This is an amazingly poignant poem that really makes one stop and think , look back and wonder why.
Thank you so much, Holly. xo
xo
A trip down memory lane…
Memories and mortality…
I loved the drifting quality of this poem, Lana. Snippets of memories that stay with us. The news of days past, the spider bite, the moment we recognize fragility and mortality. Beautiful and poignant. ❤
Thank you so much, Diana. xo
I like your mix of public and private “news”… personal earthquakes that shake us to our core while being felt by no one else vs. big public events that, in comparison, barely register as tremors. Especially loved these phrases “hung on silver space,” “voracious holly bushes” and “the cycles and spin of galaxies / the time capsules of grief.” I can see them coming to life in my imagination–a transparent mylar balloon, decking the halls with venus flytraps, stars and moons tumbling in my front loader. Well done, Lana. 🙂
Thank you, Joan, for your very lovely comment. I think it also made me realize that there are also lots of good things when we reach back into time travel. We should confront the pain, but also stay grateful for what was.
Fantastic! I think this must surely be the best one from you I have yet read. It transcends the personal and becomes a poignant homage to awakenings, memories and the cycle of time and change. I wish I could say it more clearly – but that’s the best I can do right now. Just fantastic ❤
Oh Pauline, thank you so much for your very gracious comment. My mother passed away on April the 19th of this year, and I have written much to process my memories which are at times, tinged with sadness. xo
That is very recent Lana, I am so sorry for your loss. It takes a while to process memories and all levels of loss when a life has been so closely entwined to yours. Keep writing…… xoxo
Thank you, Pauline. xoxo
I can’t add much to the comments already posted, but to just say, “I agree” or post a “Like” isn’t enough either. For me the last lines are the most powerful and thought-provoking: this world of mothers and daughters, the cycles and spin of galaxies, the time capsules of grief. That same theme of grief for woman has been weaved in blood and ashes throughout the history of “man” so many times, and so deeply. The question, “why is it so?” remains. Will we ever answer it?
Thank you, Sha’Tara, for your wonderful comment. The background on this poem is that my mother passed away April 19th of this year. She had such a difficult life, and she was so smart and just really tough to get through life as she had it. I wish I could have made things better for her, she really deserved it. As far as your question regarding women and grief, I don’t know if we can ever answer that. Women shoulder so many burdens for their families, for causes, for others, etc. It does remain difficult to answer.
So powerful, Lana
Thank you so much, Derrick. The background on this one is that I lost my mother on April 19th of this year. It has been a process to overcome.
Had no idea where you were heading with this one, Lana. So much sadness, so many memories to sort out. Hugs to you for peace during the sorting!
Thank you so much, Debbie. This particular poem deals with really the only two times that I saw my mother in so much pain. One, was back in the seventies when she was bitten by a Brown Recluse spider, and the other, of course, was at the end of her life. I used politics and world “happenings” as a frame of reference as to what was going on at both times. The cookie maker was a wonderful elderly gentleman who lived in the same housing unit as my mother did her last few years. He would bake cookies and take them out to the ladies in the sunroom. One day, nobody saw him, and come to find out, he had a fatal heart attack in his apartment. Very sad. I brought religion into it because I live in the reddest state along with a lot of hypocrites. People who despised Jimmy Carter whom I consider, out of all them, to be a true Christain. I’m also taking a swipe at them because I feel a lot of their prayers are shallow and self-serving at a time when there are such incredible important items that we should be grappling with. So in a nutshell, that is the background for this particular poem. I did write it several weeks ago. I keep a binder of things that I write, sometimes I blog publish them, sometimes not, sometimes I do way on down the line. I have been doing well and refinishing a little accent table that my mom had (my grandmother before her). I chuckled because my mom just ended up using a paper towel for a coaster which she never would have at an earlier time in her life. When I have it stained and varnished, it will look new again, and I will pass it to my daughters. Cycles go on… blessings to you, xo.
Thank you, Lana, for taking time to explain the thought process behind this lovely work. I know that’s a LOT to ask a writer — and sometimes I bristle at having others ask me for one — but it helps so much to understand what’s going on. Blessing right back atcha!!
I know what you mean, there are many times I read something and think what??? Then if you can find an explanation it makes perfect sense 😀
The oscillation between public and private is effective … somehow reminds me of Alan Ginsberg, eg ‘Wichita Vortex Sutra’.
Thanks so much, Dave. I’m not familiar with that one, so I’m going to check it out!
Ha, should have said that it’s pretty long … worth the effort, though, for the aforesaid oscillation!
Such a moving poem, beautiful writing, Lana. Take care. Hugs and much love.
Hi Lana, strong poem, you make me stop, think, re-think, wonder, and I am just thinking again and what to think next. It was well written, lots of characters in your words. A very interesting piece of writing. Thank you for posting! A good week to you!
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I am always glad that I can write things sometimes that do make people stop and think a bit. I write a lot about our changing political climate in the U.S. these days as a way of dealing with these scary times. I hope you have a wonderful new week also. I will stop by your blog to see what you’ve been up to 😀
Thank you so much. I know politics and men are two chaotic aspects rotating our daily orbit of life. But none of them can make a change for the world. So sad!
Very true…
Haunting, beautiful, and inspiring – all evoked from this beautiful writing. The past, the future and the now entangled, yet one constant, the women still bearing a brunt from the past. 🙂 ❤
Thank you so much, Debby for your very gracious comment. xoxo
🙂 xo
Wow! This poem is packed with emotion – I feel the tears as I read, the confusion, trying to make sense of what can never rationlised. The details of everyday life interwoven with international events works a treat and so real. Lana, there are wonderful lines throughout here and I was caught by your final words of ‘ time capsules of grief.’ That encapsulates it perfectly.
Thank you so much, Annika. This was a quite emotional poem to write, and at the center of it, my mother, whom I recently lost. I have written my way through her death, and it has worked as therapy for me.
Lana, I guessed this was about your mother whom you lost recently…hugs winging their way to you. Keep writing – wonderful therapy and solace. xx
Thank you, Annika. Blessings, xoxo.