Crone of My Mind’s Flesh

You ran fiery and inexorable
through my thoughts,
before my blood felt you
would need your Own Soul
to make you human.

A Big Bang can start a universe,
but the story of a world can’t be kept just
by fire and stone—
life needs water and air;
living wants spirit.

All who read the lines of your face
believe you birthed to be protectress
of the Wild Child running my heart’s woods.
But you were my firstborn:
wise, knowing, Crone of my mind’s flesh.

I carry you in my skull
with a book, a sprig of rosemary, and a silver frog.
The land fell in love with your thumb…

and I
with you both.

Process Note: Sofía Cienfuegos is a character in AlmaMia Cienfuegos and Other Stories. The short collection focuses on her youngest granddaughter, but Mamabuela (Grandmother) lived in my head and heart a long time before I knew a story would be written. The poem was partly inspired by my favorite of her quotes: “We can choose not to remember this day, but bones have strong memories. And earth never forgets.”

***
NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 9 – I Made this Poem: Write a poem inspired by something created by you (a story, a painting, a recipe…).

AlmaMia Cienfuegos and Other StoriesAlmaMia Cienfuegos and Other Stories, by Magaly Guerrero
cover art, by Michelle Kennedy

Mamabuela (Sofia Cienfuegos) by Gina“Sofía (Mamabuela) Cienfuegos”, through the eyes of Gina Morley

Baring Teeth into the Storm

She wanted
to climb a coconut tree under the rain
and I told her it was a stupid idea;

but she bared her teeth
into the storm,
hugged the slippery tree,
and snaked her bony Self
up and up and up…
while my body shook
in dread for me
or exhilaration for her.

“No permanent harm done,” she said
and I didn’t argue—the scrapes would heal;
and I wanted
the two large coconuts she had claimed
(we were seven that summer).

She wanted
to trust the woman one more time
and I told her it was a stupid idea;

but she flashed a smile
into dark clouds,
spread arms bursting with hugs,
and before I could stop the situation,
the woman broke her hugs
and set her dreams on fire.

“It hurts as much as before,” she said
and I embraced her chest
with my broken hugs and scorched dreams.

Our dreams healed… but our hugs still hurt,
whenever someone asks for our trust
under cloudy skies.

***
NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 8 – It Hurts, but It Doesn’t Harm: Weave a poem that explores the difference between hurt and harm.

linked to
Poets United Midweek Motif – Enlightenment

Dark Sky, by Koko“Dark Sky”, via Koko-Stock