Family Gravestones, 2012

I search for ancient paths
Deep rutted, hidden by catbriars and laurels
Washed by rain, trodden by my mother, invisible others,
Grandmothers and aunts carving tortuous trails
Dug deeper by custom and love,
Red veined tendrils
Under history’s tangled growth.
I follow their tears, the strings,
The scattered household debris
Of women’s work—cast iron pots,
Old *** blades, treadles, rusted with disuse,
String quilts and melted firewood.
You, Vera, Louisa, Catherine, Prudence, Elizabeth
And names now invisible,
I’m coming with my shears and blades,
My crosscut saws made strong by other seekers.
We snip, we cut, we tear at the weeds of illusion
That hide your deep and righteous trails.