ANTHROPOLOGY
The photos arrive in the mail.
Each sister sends one newly found
so I can see our mother when
she was young, then matronly,
standing on the hospital's lawn.
They do it to give me history,
to impress in my memory her
Kodachrome vitality. Arranging
a chronology of missed years.
They dig for bones in cartons
drawers and cardboard albums.
I reconstruct in black and white,
in color. She is almost solid, fleshed
with each new fragment: the infant
in her arms, the sisters holding
her arms as she leaves the hospital.
Here her smile is less generous, more
tentative, her brows narrowed.
This must have been just after
the tumor blossomed, before
she lived from bottles and in charts.
Hair by muscle, I build the body
under which my girlhood lies,
below the carved stone. From beneath
red clay, anthropologists lift femur
and fibula, gently dust, arrange the ribs
of what lived, moved and was buried.
--S.K.
8 comments:
This will be my first Mothers' Day without one. Mine passed away about a month ago. She was prodigal, highly educated, intellectual, a pioneer, and an important influence in my life. She will be profoundly missed.
I'm so sorry to hear that you just recently lost your mother, (O)CT(O).
I lost my mother to a devastating illness when I was a baby, but thanks to my sisters, I have learned, through the years, that she, too, was a vibrant, intelligent, and loving woman.
Our mothers profoundly influence us, whether we've had them with us through our lives, or only through the memories shared by our siblings.
Keep your memories of her close to you, always, and she'll always be with you.
Out of empathy for your tragic, early loss, Ms. Shaw, I offer the following. Inadequate to be sure, but heartfelt nonetheless. I was fortunate to have had my mother with me for forty-one years. She died -- I think too young at age sixty-nine -- thirty-one years ago. I miss her still, of course, but her influence will never die, and in that sense she is with me always.
Tempting though it be to mourn your loss,
O, Precious Leaf, just fallen from the tree,
A bit of lore may help us to stay free ––
Not abraded by Grief’s splintery Cross:
A leaf can’t drop, until a new one starts
Underneath its fastening to form
The bud that proves Renewal is the norm ––
Unceasing, even as old life departs.
Melancholy though the fall may seem,
Nonetheless it nourishes the tree.
Loose leaves join soil to provide energy.
Eager to join next springtime’s hope-filled dream.
All living things come to us from the Past,
For Life, infinitely adaptive, is made to last.
~ FreeThinke
Comment moderation on again because even on this day, a demented person, sick and deeply evil, has chosen to continue to defile my Mothers Day post.
Shaw...a good Mother's Day to you. A very nice photo !
Octo... so sad ot hear of your Mom's passing. this will be the second without my Mother..... I still fight the urge to pick up the phone and call her.
I guess one of the formative aspects of my personality is not having known my mother very well.
I was still pretty young when "the tumor blossomed".
How young were you, Shaw?
My mother became ill when I was 15 months old.
I was very lucky in that I had my mom with me until I was 35 years old. But I certainly did not feel lucky in the years of grieving that ensued. Mom was my best friend, and I've never had another friend as close to my heart.
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