You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘poetry’ category.
At a picnic table
at a pumpkin patch
playground with goats
and apple cider donuts
my kids and I and a friend
sat eating hot dogs and nachos
I was surprised to smell smoke
and looked around to see who was smoking
in the pavilion where people were eating
and where we were surrounded
by hay
At the table next to us were
four Muslim women
all wearing hijabs and long robes
They were drinking tea out of
delicate china demitasses
decorated with flowers
The tea was in a tall red and black checked thermos
that looked like a man in a hat with earflaps would fill
with black coffee to take on an early morning outing
The women were laughing
and one of them was smoking
I have never seen
a woman in a hijab
smoking a cigarette
She looked so relieved
Share this:
Originally published on invocations.blog |
They were invited
to take off their shoes and socks
which is usually NOT allowed at school
but this was barefoot day
in kangaroo class
On the concrete floor the teachers
had taped down
bubble wrap
(the kind with big bubbles and the kind with small bubbles)
that padding that goes under carpet
and lengths of textured yellow foam–
packing material that could be a topographical map
of another planet
Along one wall
of the classroom
they laid out a long sheet
of brown butcher paper
with gallons of bright paint at one end
Each child who wanted to
(which was not everyone–
some built train tracks or
sculpted play dough or
did wooden puzzles of
farm animals and vehicles)
chose red or yellow or blue paint
and the teachers poured a puddle
onto a square of bubble wrap
and the child stepped in
The teachers had to hold the hand
of each child as they squished their toes
into the paint
because paint on bubble wrap
can be quite slippery
when you’re two or three years old
Walking along the brown paper path
they left small footprints
until they came to the end
where I had filled a big blue basin
with warm water
and they stepped in
and i washed their feet
with my hands
even though they did not know me at all
they leaned on my shoulders
to steady themselves
as I gently lifted one foot
and then the other
to wipe away the paint
Then I held their hands
as they stepped out of the water
onto a towel
where I dried their feet
and wiped off smears of paint
from their ankles that I had missed
(there was still some paint between their toes,
but I had to keep the line moving)
Soon they would return
having left more footprints
now in blended colors
because eventually all the paint
mixed together
and I would wash their feet again
and now they knew me as the lady
who was there to wash and dry
their feet
(still between their toes the paint clung)
and they smiled at me
in wonder,
so delighted by what they had done
At the end, one of the teachers decided
to walk through the paint and
down the brown paper path
and one of the little girls
quickly took her hand
to walk beside her and make sure
she was steady
Share this:
(originally published on invocations.blog)
So much is out of our control
who moves in next door
who doesn’t clean up
after their dog
on the sidewalk
in front of
your house
When the bus finally arrives
Whether the check
is in the mail
How your boss
behaves
How anyone
behaves
Who lets you in when
you’re trying to
turn left out of your
neighborhood onto
Columbia Pike
Who stops when
you’re trying to
cross the street
Who is having a bad day
and takes it out
on you
who holds
the door open for you and
all the kids you’ve brought along
and smiles and doesn’t seem to mind
that they are oblivious to the fact of the door
How viruses mutate
whether the nurse assigned to your room
has ever taken care of a patient like you before
Whether the people in charge of your country
decide to start a war
against another country or
against you
Whether someone who looks like you–even a little bit
commits a crime
What DNA you inherit
What your mother did
or did not do while you were
becoming human
Whether she brought you
into the world with joy
or despair
Whether you get put in the class
of a kind kindergarten teacher
or one who should have
already retired or found
another steelier line of work
So much is out of our control
it is a miracle that we find
at the end of the day that
a single thing we set out to do
has been done
A testament
to our optimistic persistence
that we write out
yet another to do list
naively determined to try again
even though
so much is out of our control
Share this:
(originally published on invocations.blog)
My main skill
on the soccer field
is getting in people’s way
Also I can cheer
I am not fast
No matter how many
games I play
or watch
I cannot see
what needs to happen
beyond my need to kick
the ball away from me
toward someone who will
know better than I do
what to do with it
Nothing that happens
on a field
or with a ball
or on a court
or in a pool
or on a track
or on a mat
comes easily to me
This is not to say I am weak
because I AM strong
I can be fierce
and determined
and endure
but it is
never
ever
easy
I watch my teammates
sprint toward the ball
maneuver around our opponents
boot the ball gloriously
through the air
with what seems
to me like
no effort at all
I hear them talk about the other team’s
offense and defense
and which players
are the ones
to watch
“All we need to do is…”
they explain
on the sidelines
but I don’t
really
understand
still I will jog onto the field
and see who I need to
get in the way of
when she has the ball
and maybe steal the ball
if i’m lucky
and pass it
and cheer loudly
for whoever
takes it down the field
to score
Share this:
We are the broken branches,
splintered by the wind
We are the thousand twigs
scattered across the yard
We are the enormous, unshakeable oak
—apparently we are actually shakeable—
that boomed to the ground, just barely missing the house
Uprooted
leaving a chasm of earth
displacing those who depend on us to live
We are the bird that picks up those twigs to build a new nest
We are the squirrel that finds acorns revealed by the fallen oak
We are the ancient elm propelled by the storm onto a car
Shattering the windshield, crumpling the roof
(we are also the car)
We are the friends who came and cut up the tree
While we were working a weekend shift at our second job
We are the firewood shared with neighbors and the warmth it provides
We are slices of elm for playgrounds and pathways
We are the people who walk or jump across them
We are the wind
We are the calm after the wind subsides
Betsy Rosenblatt Rosso
March 10, 2018
