poem for today

“For a second time there was no sign. Again no bridegroom
and the priest in the house. She could not remember any other sorrow
because this grief wiped them all away. Oh, no, there’s nothing more
cruel than this—I’ll never forgive it. She stretched herself with a deep
breath and blew out the light.”

Katherine Anne Porter, “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall”

pruning time

my arms are strong
my eyes see clearly
from dark brown knots

sculpted by time
and patience

my heart is somewhere
beating deep below
my barky surface

forcing a circulation
of life through my veins

but it’s all very confusing
when the time comes
to prune

to lob off a limb there
shave clean a branch here

to listen to the cracking
of my bones
worn tough by wind
and rain
to watch them break and fall

i’m on my knees
as if in prayer

looking up at familiar faces with
arms unfolded like a letter as if stretching
the muscles awake after a long night of sleeping
falling with force and gravity
making deep cuts
with every swipe

and i cry
while this same heart keeps
pumping
keeping me alive even
as i lose parts

for these parts have their
ways now
their own names

while i still

become smaller
by forced lack
and fragmentation

but my heart still beats
as it has
always done

pushing life through
my veins
repairing the damage
with new growth
because in the certain stillness
that always returns
after the violence
has retreated

i can hear the quietness
of repair
within deep sighs
and extended embraces

oaw
09/18/08