I saw them yesterday . . .
papery hands
at euchre tables
laying down hearts
and memories of another time
when bleeding was a different colour
and young women howled fiercely at the moon
with newborn babes clutched tightly at their breasts.
I saw them yesterday . . .
in silvery disguises
covering their hearts
with diamonds
and thin-lipped smiles
half-heartedly masking
the haunting of loneliness
and lost children.
Where is the place where grandmothers go to weep?
I am awake in the dark
lost in raw knowing
that these scars were carved
fresh and deep
to remind me that
I am still . . .
A mother.
by Michelle LaRiviere
September 24th, 2014 Windsor, Ontario
Michelle LaRiviere 
lovely
Merci Roland! J’apprécie beaucoup ton avis! xo
A well described moment…..
in the stillness of time.
Thank you, Steve. It is so important to honour our moments . . . they speak of the universal experience of living and loving, and affirm that the moments mattered – for each and every one of us.
These lines speak a truth in plenum:
I am awake in the dark
lost in raw knowing
It’s a tearing away of the phenomenal glitter that the indirect worlds below the black loam of life suddenly reveal the numinous. I love the way you chose to use “raw knowing”: that sense of laying bare, unblemished, unfinished, that base knowing of things as they are without us.
I don’t know if it was so much a matter of choice . . . but more a search of meaning through accurate word form to describe an intensity of profound existential awakening as a new grandmother – one who has found herself not at all where she thought she would be. My muse has always drawn blood.
You describe so beautifully a profound interpretation of my poem, and paint a new picture in my mind. Thank you! I will reflect on your words.
Loved it.
Thanks so much for the feedback, Stuart. This poem will be one of several recorded for the spoken word audio portion of Project Sage Nu (the project description is in the menu above). Thanks again!
Exceptional. I like the way how every line in the first section gets longer than the one before it. And your words flowed off my mind and tongue like silk.
Thanks so much, Matt!
My poetry is rarely constructed in a conscious, mechanical fashion (regarding rhythm and shape)… the best and most powerful ones seem to always come upon me from within, almost fully formed, and I have no choice but to facilitate their birth. They seem to will their own existence. Sometimes years will pass in between, which can only be explained as the mysteries of the soul at play.
I’m so happy to hear that you enjoyed this poem! It means a lot to receive feedback in the form of words. Thanks again for taking the time to comment.
Michelle