The Poetry Of...
Marie Lecrivain.............................................................
marta
Between mystic siblings
you found your place
in the order of earthly things:
the clean sparkle of cups, the rich
malt scent of bread pulled
from the fire, & the angular satisfaction
of folded linen.
Armed with a warm touch
& a cool drink, you were
the axis of sensibility
around which the acolytes revolved:
as the weary Master entered a room,
he’d pause to place his head
on your shoulder
in brotherly affection, & in
tribute to your unadorned splendor.
History gifted you with the role
of an impatient hausfrau,
scolded you for acting human
in the midst of many frailties,
& often forgot to laud
your greatest achievement
of absolute and incorruptible faith –
the day you asked Him
to bring your brother back.
…& He did…
proving in this instance,
the grace and beauty
by simply being true,
is not the same as being simple.
ultrasound
(midwife #17)
today
the cup & the wand intersect
to scree for answers
to my future
this ghostly mirror
reveals the empty chamber
of my womb
bleak, cool, lifeless;
its smooth barren walls
are unappealing
& next I see the
the left ovum
slowly extend its tendrils
to release a viable
who does not stay
but chooses to quietly expire;
a kinder alternative
than spending 10 moons in
an oubliette
that cannot hold love
kindness
or even perdition
my future echoed
in miniature;
the futile journey
of a viable life
passing
into night
just suppose
(in memory of Catherine Bureau Corriveau 1651-1707)
She steps off the gangplank
onto the soil of a wintry New World.
The hand concealed in her pocket
gathers courage and warmth from
a few livres that were the price
for all she left behind. One
question presents itself
as he comes toward her; a
colonial dreamer, eager to
reap, to share with her
the benefits of forsaking
the idylls of women and wine;
the pursuit for the kind of
freedom anonymity brings.
The question: Will there be love,
when she only has herself to give?
The certain, proprietary grasp
on her hand as he withdraws it
from its warm burrow to enfold
in his, and then lead her to the
marriage bed, through the journey
of welcoming nine blessings into
the wild, the years spent by
her side, and the final good-byes,
his hand still holding hers with
the same assurance it did that
first, decisive moment years before-
is the only answer she ever needed.
