Callused hallux digs the dirt, nervous
of what’s yet to come—I can only say:
Breathe, jumpy, think of light. All
cannot be grim as a goose
Who, unaware, is warming an egg
Not graced with life, unfertilized.
She chases off all who draw near,
Her fear the hatchling’s peril.
Poor mother goose, your ribs are showing,
Your breast has thinned, and winter’s coming.
Listen, anxious, light is simple
Simple like the egg that hatches.
You are holding fast to that
which only keeps you thin and sad.
Your former life’s not graced
with light, you cannot hatch
New life from sorrow.
September 2011
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 1:27 AM UTC
Callused hallux digs the dirt, nervous
of what’s yet to come—I can only say:
Breathe, jumpy, think of light. All
cannot be grim as a goose
Who, unaware, is warming an egg
Not graced with life, unfertilized.
She chases off all who draw near,
Her fear the hatchling’s peril.
Poor mother goose, your ribs are showing,
Your breast has thinned, and winter’s coming.
Listen, anxious, light is simple
Simple like the egg that hatches.
You are holding fast to that
which only keeps you thin and sad.
Your former life’s not graced
with light, you cannot hatch
New life from sorrow.
September 2011
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