These Sins
There’s a poem by Barbara Kingsolver
My Mother’s Last 40 Minutes
that broke me
And I couldn’t walk away
like I did while waiting at the bus stop
when our dog was hit by a car
A few people gathered to figure out what to do
The bus to Hingham came and I got on
How can I be in two places at once?
Reverse time to stop those inconvenient
and traumatic life events from happening?
Now the dog is only a thought
Not like the colander I stole a decade later
when starting out in my first apartment
with lawn chairs for furniture
and thrift shop silverware
I keep it as a reminder
a thing that won’t go away
that I can’t give it back
and won’t abandon to the landfill
after making the choice to own it
It’s white enamel coating has chipped
revealing its black base underneath
I confessed the theft to a friend once
He told me that a young Pope Francis
stole rosary beads from a dead man’s coffin
Like Kingsolver, I know the sound of a death rattle
and the primal need for mother’s love
that when unrequited brings protected independence
or disassociation stored for future reference
Last night I fed an abandoned cat
I fixed and drained noodles
from the colander for supper
I don’t remember the dog’s name
If it lived or was even ours
But I know a wound is a thing
that won’t go away
until it’s acknowledged
until it’s deeply felt
______Colleen Redman / Poets and Storytellers United
February 7th, 2021 7:13 am
A poem rich in remembered details, even if poignant too. I love it.
(PS I changed your link. I’m sure this was the one you meant to share, and not an article in a publication called Dogwood, about women protesters.)
February 7th, 2021 11:06 am
A poignant, vivid and beautifully written poem.
February 7th, 2021 11:46 am
this is the type of poem that tugs at the heart, softly and without drama.
the mind goes blank under a tragedy, we try the best we can under the circumstances.
lovely, poignant work.
February 7th, 2021 1:02 pm
Kingsolver’s poem broke you, and your poem reached right through the chest wall and cracked itself a place in the heart. I’m taken by the vividness and power of the details–and pope to be stealing holy things, a loss that refuses to be forgotten. The tone of the piece, too, lingers…
February 7th, 2021 2:08 pm
It broke you and then inspired you to weave a very visual and wistful account of events and their emotional repercussions lingering beneath the surface.
February 7th, 2021 2:09 pm
Funny how we forget many good things in our past, but one thing of which we’re not proud clings to us like mud on our boots in a plowed field.
February 7th, 2021 2:49 pm
Always a treat to be here Colleen – I struggled to get this display on my earlier session, but pleased to have got there in the end…
And how perfect and powerful too is your finish:
“a wound is a thing
that won’t go away
until it’s acknowledged
until it’s deeply felt”
Loved this…
February 7th, 2021 3:33 pm
I read through this one several times, moved and devastated in new ways in each re-reading. I am drawn to the way it explores wounds and sins. There’s something that mixes the holy and mundane in the best possible way. I really like it.
February 7th, 2021 7:05 pm
So much to love in this piece Colleen–every word of this resonates–
February 7th, 2021 9:36 pm
This is a most beautiful, honest and telling poem. Perhaps we should each write a confessional just for ourselves to acknowledge our own selves.
February 7th, 2021 10:43 pm
Great work, CR. Like most, I’ve got a colander or two hanging around as well. This poem rocks.
February 8th, 2021 11:30 am
Enjoyed your confessional poem I have kept all of my thrift shop purchases…. I love them
The Pope stealing the Rosary beads from a grave is a shock. I put crystal rosary beads in my grandmother’s grave. If I find out they are missing there will be big trouble.
February 8th, 2021 2:14 pm
Your ending is fantastic. I took some things from my parents home that they had abandoned in outbuildings. When Alzheimer’s hit my mother she swore I stole them. Everyday I look at the glassware and I’m thankful I took them that bright sunny day of discovery.