Unwish'd

(For Charlotte’s Creek):

Unwish’d
When Irene passed through
And on, and left us
Damp of Eye and
Squishy-toed
And swelled our banks
And over-swept our bridges
And made the right
Low streets canals
And church steps docks
And steeples buoys,
And our homes of stick
And mortar creeked,
And smoothed some stones
Along the way,
We were warned—
Reminded:
Our mother is the prime
And in her passing resides
The power.
She cannot stay forever—
Tho’, hydrangea did renew—
Nor did we wish her to.

When Irene passed through
And on, and left us,
A new soul, Charlotte,
Came prime,
Or primer still, still quick
Yet still a trickling brook
From whence?
Another side, another line,
And swelled our banks
With minty tea
And craft and confection
And freshly-squeezed
And pulpy this and that
And rounded rocks,
We were warned—
Reminded:
Of the fragility of God’s
most porcelain creation,
Resilient soul.
In her passing resides
The power.
She cannot stay forever—
Tho’, deposit sediment anew—
Nor did we wish her to.

When Charlotte passed through
At last—a gift, daisy-new—and on,
Her name, upon the wind, did spread,
Broadcast along the wings of
Hummingbirds and clung to
Dandelions floating high and far
And did land along a
New shore—
A new bank deposited—
Among Helens and Anns:
A different clan.
Yet sweet, a promise still.
We were warned—
Reminded:
That tears can christen,
And baptize
And that squishy toes are for frolic
And that hydrangea need sediment
And that youth too will pass.
She cannot stay forever—
Spirited, alabaster soul grew—
Nor did we wish her to.

On Charlotte’s Creek,
O’er rocks of geologic time
And innumerable Irenes and Charlottes,
Anns and Helens,
And hummingbirds and dandelions
And daisies and hydrangea
And harvest moons
And apples dropp’d
And forests fell’d
And Winter snows
And Spring thaws
And swollen banks
And streaming trickles,
Eddying and rapids too,
And chilled toes
And whetted lips,
We are warned—
Reminded:
To cherish our enduring mother—
Adoration well-sprung.
She cannot stay forever—
Always and already new—
Though we may wish her to.

Comments

  1. Although most of my poetry is meant to stand on its own, and this does, I want to provide minimal context. My paternal grandmother: Irene. Also the name of the hurricane that recently passed through this part of New York. My maternal grandmother (and Aunt who lives near Charlotte, NC which was also peripherally touched by the same hurricane): Charlotte. Also the name of the beautiful granddaughter (a miracle child in many ways) of my hosts, the Shafers, here in Granville. A creek, named for the granddaughter runs through the property.

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