Sharing today with The Sunday Muse #189, where Shay is hosting. Come and read and share a piece!
On a web-white, wool-quiet morning
I found the girl our stories gave us
The one who survived
She wore the meadow, carded and sewn
Long since burned for field
Still, she knew me
Her stories named me fierce, feral
She might have feared
The one who devours
Neither of us spoke, patient at morning
Breath, warmth, silence
Innocent of power
We know the stories kill us both
We know that we become
Fearsome by survival
Anyway.
Looking forward to replacing the doomscrolling with reading poetry. :) Hope the week is kind and the words plentiful!
-- chrissa
It looks like we saw the same thing in this picture! I like the short 3-line stanzas here, and "she wore the meadow, carded and sewn."
ReplyDeleteThis gorgeous poem is full with wonder and strength my friend. The image does speak survival to me as well. I love this poem Chrissa!!
ReplyDeleteThis poem is wonderful, from first word to last. Really really good work! I love the web-white wool-quiet morning especially.
ReplyDeleteThe force of narrative power behind the quiet words just takes my breath away, Chrissa. All the versions of the tale of girl and wolf meld into one in this silent meeting between survivors. I am rapt with wonder.
ReplyDeletePax,
Dora
This is incredible—one of the best poems I’ve read in a while.
ReplyDeleteI especially love “Innocent of power.”
A meld of the innocence and the wild in our beings
ReplyDeleteNice one Chrissa
Thank you for dropping by my blog today
Much💜love
"She wore the meadow, carded and sewn" - wow, that weaves so much intricacy. Terrific ending.
ReplyDeleteI love every stanza of this, and I especially love that it is told from the viewpoint of the wolf. The tension under the well-crafted images builds to that last stanza, which has the stark impact of personal/universal truth. Really one of my favorites of yours, Chrissa; it has resonance for me, featuring as it does both a changeling and a power out of our imaginations.
ReplyDeleteThis is exquisite, fine writing! Happy Sunday, no silence allowed ….
ReplyDeleteThe second stanza is truly beautiful...there is a special art in wearing a meadow.
ReplyDeleteI love that descriptive first line and the tone-setting of the next two.
ReplyDeleteFull of allusions and illusions? Beautiful writing, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteWarm today but cooler and cooler coming. Out of the corner
of my eye I saw a 37 low for us this on a weekend night. Brrr ...
..
We know that we become
ReplyDeleteFearsome by survival
Love the close Chrissa! It' s warm, lull before the storm
Hank
You wrote, and please know, I read. Though these days, I’m nearly blind of eye, and debilitatingly arthritic of fingers — I placed this prepared comment here as an ongoing thank you for sharing your words. I am grateful to be able to visit , and I will do so as long as I am able. I appreciate you opening your soul, Chrissa.
ReplyDelete"She wore the meadow, carded and sewn"
ReplyDeleteGorgeous words and imagery, Chrissa!
Oh this poem is exquisite writing....Love this line " She wore the meadow, carded and sewn"
ReplyDelete