writing to know, knowing thru being, being for writing... this is me, writing about the one thing i know, which is myself... and even that is sometimes a mystery...

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

a feeling for your autumn monday nostalgia

(not really a poem, but more of an attempt to capture a feeling... so, well, i guess... poetry)

Listening to Tom Waits sing about passing time,
about seeing the love of your life again, having both married and "moved on," but with lingering love still between you,
I think of a Christmas from my childhood, and a feeling of being inside from the falling snow, seeing the glowing, glinting crystal snowflakes falling against the darkening bleak black late December sky, walking out of a grocery store with my mom, clutching a Holiday Barbie doll to my chest as I hold onto the plastic cart's sides, my mom gazing on.

We go home and I put the doll away. Her red/green polyester outfit, lined with white fur trim, her red plastic snow boots, her winter hat, stockings and mittens. So life-like. I combed her hair and looked at her constant contented face.

My mom was downstairs, putting away groceries and preparing dinner. I crouched on the floor of my nursery, hearing the distant kitchen noises as they came to me through stairwell and hallway, listening for the sound of my mother's voice.

Something I always feel this time of year, with the coming winter shortened days, the crisping cold, the absence of my mother by my side, and the constant smile of commodity plastic friends,

makes me recall this eternal winter day.

And the grocery gifts my mother buys me.

i wrote this while listening to tom waits's "martha," but i find that the same feeling can be conveyed by the inconsolable's "we, emmanuel light, love ocean." try it.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home