an Easterish poem

for Sheila

 

The March afternoon when Mom gave me the breakable angel

I placed it high on the mantle where its “Hallelujah! He is Risen!”

could always be seen, especially in spring

 

when the days start cool, then warm into full sun

when the light is longer

when grass is conquered by color. Who can call a bluebonnet delicate

when it grows in the most god-forsaken ditches?

It takes some strength to bloom where no one planted you.

 

I pick up the angel when — oh, look!

            She’s missing a hand.

When did that happen? How did I not notice? Surely I didn’t throw it away?

That’s how fragile motherhood is. You can lose a hand and not know it.

Comments

  1. I’m speechless.

  2. Undone.

  3. Such amazing poetry. I’ll make sure my mom sees this one. 🙂

  4. This is beautiful, Megan. Perfect for Easter.

  5. Beautiful speaks of how god brings moms as his help mates into the ongoing creation

  6. “…Who can call a bluebonnet delicate

    when it grows in the most god-forsaken ditches?

    It takes some strength to bloom where no one planted you.”

    Truth

  7. Clif Drummond says:

    This is so powerful, and delicate in the same breath.

  8. Fayma Drummond says:

    This poem overwhelms me, as does all of your writing. This one is somewhat different, though I’m not sure exactly how. But that’s the way it is with much of your writing: most of the time I’m not sure exactly…… I think that is what intrigues me so much. You put so much out there that can, and usually does, takes one’s thoughts in many different directions. Probably what I like about this is it’s continuity in theme with so many different examples that anyone else’s writing would not seem to flow with that same continuity. I think my favorite has already been cited. “Who can call a bluebonnet delicate…..” My last comment is that I’m curious about what was in your head with, “That’s how fragile motherhood is. You can lose a hand and not know it.” I don’t expect you to answer that. I’m just curious. I think that one could go in as many different directions as the number of people who read this.

    BTW: Did I ever tell you one of the bits of wisdom that LaDon shared with me when I first joined Facebook? It was, “Mother, it asks for a comment, not a novel.” Doesn’t that sound just like LaDon? Obviously, I didn’t really pay a great deal of attention to her wisdom. 🙂

  9. Your last line hit home, Megan. I rode along on a lilting birdsong, hearing you speak each line, then came to the end and was struck by its truth that calls for no further words.

  10. “It takes some strength to bloom where no one planted you.”
    Yeah.

  11. Yes, you can lose your hand, your heart, your confidence…even your son. As you know, my dear, dear friend lost her son this past week. I don’t know what else she lost that day. Maybe everything but her own faint pulse.

    • Ann,
      I am so, so sorry to hear about your friend’s loss of her son. After that, my husband shows me, all the rest of life is a negotiation.

    • Oh, Ann. May God grace you in the coming weeks and months as you walk alongside her.

      • Marilyn, thank you. I need grace and wisdom and moment-by-moment insight to know what to do and say, and what not to do or say…when to fall silent and simply listen. People who know me know how chatty I can be in real life; believe it or not, I have done a lot of sitting quietly. That is evidence of God’s supernatural grace…shutting my mouth and opening my heart wide open. And my arms. I’ve done a lot of holding, too.

  12. Mark Osler says:

    Love it. I’m quoting it on the Razor!