The following poem just won first place in the Writer’s Workshop Poetry Contest
*The Grandmothers were hot,
Glowing in the dusky light
Like globes of gold hung by firelight.
No one dared speak,
Even the children, awed,
Mouths open halfway between
Fear and delight, waiting…
Our hands, feet and body shook
Impaled upon hooks of vibration
We could not escape
As we lost all consciousness,
Awakening in the other land.
What would we have wanted
The sphere of Oneness to look like?
A cloud of blue perhaps
Silhouetted against fading pink light
In the west or crisp and white
Like first morning light washed clean
By dark night.
But it is a meadow of tulips
Where wise women sleep
Among the grassy knolls
And dream of the next earthly life.
We were infused with light
As we passed through the portal
Created by the Grandmothers,
Floating through what is no longer time.
Now weary from this wisdom journey
We find paths to take us
Into the forest of this other world
Where all we’ve known resides.
And he will be there—
The one I’ve loved through all time,
He will be there glowing like gold
In the dusky light,
Waiting to follow me
Wherever I go.
*The Grandmothers refers to the Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers who came together in 2004 to save Mother Earth.
Published in Western North Carolina Woman, September 2005
Strong as mountains made me,
Carrying bushels of corn
Up the steep path
From the truck garden
Near the river,
Sitting on their front porches
Shucking the ears,
Balanced in the cradle
Of their cotton dresses.
Their voices, like birdsong,
With the autumn breeze.
Sitting beside them,
I touched the corn silk gently,
Wishing my hair
Were that shining golden color
Like a vision of forest faeries
Dancing beneath our chinaberry tree.
Holding the corn in my hands,
Feeling it was still alive
Though common sense told me
It couldn’t be,
Plucked from the stalk that way.
Gently, I peeled the outer skins away
Exposing the naked corn.
At night when the moon was full
I would lie awake
Floating in its light
As if balanced on the water
Of a cool mountain stream.
I had no questions formed to ask
But knew there were mysteries
Pulling at me in that cool light.
I knew my grandmother,
My mother too,
Knew the wisdom of the mountains
And the mysteries of the moon,
Though we never spoke of them.
Such beautiful imagery and timeless sentiments conveyed in these poems, Georganne. Thank you for sharing.
I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
Beautiful poetry! Thank you Georganne.
Let us speak and know- in the silence. Beautiful and wonderful to be published.