Lilies
dream zooms me to a stone Virgin
in a field, on a mountain side.
her cloak is blackened by fire
she walks before me tall and stern
turns to look at me from inside
her dark hood. I am knees to
the ground trembling and scared,
ready to kiss her feet
or the tips of her fingers.
she tells me my sorrow is too
heavy, and I stutter, Why?
why do the babies have to die?
I throw them back, she says
like fish too small to catch.
she can't stand to see them suffer.
she smiles while I comb and braid
her long red-gold hair
awash in sunlight
in her dressing room fragrant with flowers.
she says, they bring me roses because
I'm tired of lilies
cc Jennifer Boire
Little Mother, Hochelaga Press
1 comment:
I hope you don't think I'm stalking you, this is the third comment I've left in as many days! I had to tell you though that I loved the mood of this poem. My talent is art, (visit me at http://wtmu.blogpot.com/)although as a teenager I wrote a lot of poetry. I'm inspired to maybe try creating some. You may be interested in a website called Poetry Thursday that I found http://www.poetrythursday.org/
See what you think.
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