Anachorisis - Poetry Train Monday # 2
I spend this first evening in Greece
by my Father’s sea.
I watch stars scratch
at the darkness.
I pick up a small glass stone,
and gaze at the onioned moon.
Entangled with words,
dreams
and recollections - I learn,
On this night,
to not be greedy -
To leave some
family stories
unchallenged.
Written: August 2001.
Hop on board Rhian’s Poetry Train Monday.
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Comments
Wonderful, Christine -- I love the calm, reflective feel of this piece.
Posted by: Robin L. Rotham | May 14, 2007 8:15 PM
that's funny........my father is in Greece as we speak......a Greek girl has married into the family.........excellent poem.........
Posted by: stak | May 14, 2007 7:16 PM
That's a lovely poem. I treasure all the stories I've heard from my mom, my aunts and uncles... and my grandparents. Thank you for sharing!
Posted by: Rashenbo | May 14, 2007 5:21 PM
I am one of those who wishes she knew more of the family's stories. And then I find out that my great-grandparents were survivors of a small town in Poland where the Jews were locked in a barn and the barn set on fire and you know what? You're right. Some stories are best left alone.
Posted by: Susan Helene Gottfried | May 14, 2007 2:35 PM
I love the idea of leaving some family stories unchallenged.
Posted by: Dew | May 14, 2007 7:08 AM
i really, really, REALLY like this line: "I pick up a small glass stone,
and gaze at the onioned moon." and love the concept behind this poem of allowing the "truthiness" of certain tales to remain intact.
Posted by: rhian | May 14, 2007 2:49 AM