Vaguely, in the haze of memory I see her, moving in the polka-dot dress. On the verge of a smile, laughter rises in her belly like the floodwaters swirling now around my fat ankles.
A mirage of happiness, she dissolves in my tears, sounds and shapes distorted by the awful sadness that swept in and silenced her.
I am haunted by her laugh and strain to hear it rising up within my heart that was her heart before it lost its way.
Poignant and deftly crafted as always, Dawn. I love Erin's comments below, but also, hot from my Flamenco write, I see the passion and the pain of my Carmen in her vibrant yellow polka-dot dress, too! The expression on her face as she twisted and turned was intense, as you can imagine. Woman and child together, the one held in the other's womb of life. Beautifully interlaced and delicately sketched. TY for this, Kate xx
Oh, powerful piece, Dawn! You've captured the little girl/child many of us were, because, it is how we are as children, but, you've rendered her/us helpless with your word choices and placements.
The first verse has several 'happy-happening' phrases; polka-dot dress, on the verge of a smile, laughter rises in her belly. Then, as the flood waters of age rise, they cover the rising of the now barely remember-heard laughter.
The second verse has a strongly happy/sad phrase in 'a mirage of happiness', but, like all mirages, the child dissolves from the woman's sight, lost and silenced, like the mirage of water, which could save a life, if it was real.
The last verse brings us to the conclusion they are one and the same, after all, but, nevermore as innocence, laughter and joy, only sorrow is left, another 'rising', this time, of hopelessness.
It's a delicious poem, delicately woven, damply wept, lost and alone, a brilliant piece of work.
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The first verse has several 'happy-happening' phrases; polka-dot dress, on the verge of a smile, laughter rises in her belly. Then, as the flood waters of age rise, they cover the rising of the now barely remember-heard laughter.
The second verse has a strongly happy/sad phrase in 'a mirage of happiness', but, like all mirages, the child dissolves from the woman's sight, lost and silenced, like the mirage of water, which could save a life, if it was real.
The last verse brings us to the conclusion they are one and the same, after all, but, nevermore as innocence, laughter and joy, only sorrow is left, another 'rising', this time, of hopelessness.
It's a delicious poem, delicately woven, damply wept, lost and alone, a brilliant piece of work.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Ron
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
A most moving rememberance...reminds me of my own gramma (mom's mom). Thank you for sharing such a powerful work--
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
Love,
Eileen