Hand Held (WC)

 

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(Wendy Cabell, published in Mindful Poetry Moments, second edition, edited by Stacey Simms and Eddie Gonzalez, The Well (in partnership with NPR's On Being Project), 2021. From recently written poems woven together on May 9, 2021, Mother's Day. Also is Antipascha (Saint Thomas Sunday, Orthodox Church), and feast day of  Saint Prophet Isaiah, and educators Blessed Karolina Gerhardinger and Blessed Maria del Carmen . On Jewish calendar is 27 Iyar, day commemorating a (135 BC) victory against idolatry. Image is May 7th's Theotokos of the Life-Giving Spring, from here.)

Hand Held

(after Roger Robinson)

Hold (one's) hand: 1. Literally, to grasp one's hand and continue holding it, typically while walking together or sitting next to each other, often as a sign of affection. 2. To comfort or support one when they are frightened, anxious, or distressed. 3. To carefully guide one through something, to make something very easy for one. --Farlex Dictionary of Idioms

1. Interweave

Come closer dear. Let your Mother
sort it out. Mother Mary, She's here with
us now. Come tell Her what's going on.
Have some tea and cookies. Sink back into the
cushions. We've candlelight, birdsong... what's that?
It's okay, I know it too. The chaos, noise inside. But
She's here, please know this. My mother and her mother
and her mother, and back and back and back, their hand in
Hers. Can you feel your hand here too? All of us, She holds
us together. And untangles all the knots. So come closer dear.
Let your Mother sort it out.

2. Growing Years


When I awake, She's here. Knows this place so
much better than I. Sews me dresses. Makes soup.
Sorts these jumbled paintings and papers.
"Space, space", She says, "Let the story breathe."
So space holding now, or so longing.  And for Her
hand, though it's been here ever. And if Mary's
Her name, reflection Her domain
(through this love around me)
then just might keep growing

forever. 'Round Her echo,

"Space, space.

  Let the story

     breathe."

3. Star-shine

My Mother always says to me,

          Full of grace,
          this moment is,

held now in darkness, longing
for the fresh hope of morning.

          Morning Star,
She clarifies. To my
          You're a Starbearer then?

She smiles, takes my hand. Sets to heart.
Dawns a whisper,

          Follow that Star.
          Hum its anthem under your breath.

          Full of grace, this moment is.

          Amen.

*From a hybrid of prompts: First two sections from Legacy Poetry (Daisy Barratt-Nash)'s prompt to freewrite about the mentor would have loved growing up, and would love to offer those growing up. Third section from On Being/The Well's Mindful Poetry prompt to freewrite as inspired by Roger Robinson's A Portable Paradise.