Brushing off the crumbs from a saltines with butter lunch, I ducked under lilac’s spindle arms and found the broadest stalk. Scratching a thumbnail down to green, I peeled the narrow strip of bark and added it to bittersweet nightshade in my woven leaf mortar.
I sat back on my feet. Invisible to the world; I plotted to heal it. My finger as a pestle, I burst poisonous berries into a mix of dusty blooms, gritty dirt, and Saturday morning grass clippings.
Foraging in the close hold, my knee split open on a shallow root. I dropped all potions and plans, quickly licking the streaking rivulet like a white tiger her newborn.
Thisi reminds me of (lucky) children everywhere. By lucky, I mean those with a lilac to creep around under and be scraped by. You with your woven leaf mortar and world consciousness seem especially lucky. It’s a beautiful prose poem – I especially love the lilac’s summer wimple – although I can’t help thinking of it in its spring form – and all the poultices, and of course the end is wonderful.
My children played a great deal under/inside a lilac bush -and the leaves made great medicines – also there are those little sharp sort of berry clusters. I have a lilac poem somewhere – not so good as this – I’ll send you link as you might like it.
It may be useful to have a more direct reference to childhood – I hope I’m not misreading it! – it is to me fairly clear but I have seen kids in similar settings and some reading it may not get the spindle arms and the finger pestle. I do think you have clues but the language is quite adult and nuanced and that may confuse some readers. Maybe something in title? I don’t know. And again, maybe I’ve got it wrong. But it seems to me to be the child as mother of the child, also child wanting to mother the world – so doable as a child. k.
I agree with the potential confusion. After posting (of course after) I thought about my voice. Am I eight in the piece, am I fifty? I am remembering days gone by, certainly, but easily see how that is confusing and takes an effort not intended. Often I write from two or more time frames and haven’t been sophisticated enough with diction to be convincing.
Thank you for your feedback, karin. I am going now to read yours.
Well, I think it does work, but it takes more careful reading – I think it’s fine to be both 8 and 50, but I would be concerned that a reader may not quite pick up on the 8 part, and think of it as some weird voodoo! (There are those readers out there.) So, it may make sense to put something – in the title or first line – that more directly lets the reader now that there is some childhood aspect here. Even In the Remembered Shade of Lilac or Little in shade of Lilac – those are stupid, and I know you’ll come up with something. You can delete my comments if you like to see how others respond – in terms of understanding – , as they will probably be influenced by comments. k.
I understand that the spindle arms are the plant! I didn’t mean them as little child’s arms though there’s always those elements – and spindle so great here in the fine weave of the setting. k.
Here’s my link, if you are interested. Completely different (and not so vivid poem) but nice pic. http://manicddaily.wordpress.com/2010/05/09/mothers-day-evening/
This reminded me of a bunch of us girls–probably not even 8–who used to mash the berries from privet bushes into ‘poison berry toothpaste’ which we evilly dreamed of giving to various neighborhood figures who had thwarted us–not the healing you have in this of course, and that idea of an herbal balm made of both good and deadly plants to me indicates far more of an adult perspective–I love the visuals, especially that final one of the white tiger, which seems to speak of an alliance under the skin with natural forces so much greater than ourselves.
oh, how i appreciate your phrasing, Hedge… “an alliance under the skin with natural forces….” yes! I’ve changed the piece a bit since you read, took out some of the big-girl words and embraced a younger voice. always a work in progress, i think.
Hi – I think the big girl words were okay! I don’t know, but somehow felt there was a bit of magic with them even in the confusion. This is just my thought – not wanting to confuse you more.
Both versions are good. k.
thanks, k. : )
Jane, you are such a talented writer. Just loved the magical quality of this and the detail of your word-painting.
Thank you warmly, Victoria. This is high praise to me; I admire your work and sharply honed eye. : )