GIRL
down generations
she crosses bridges and streams
her body is smart
though prying mind-trolls
punish her rebel with glee
not the ordered son
yet loved by the mother bee
her spirit endures
This ceramic bee shone from a box of knickknacks among items my dad left.
. I liked the ornament as a child and can still see the bright wings mirrored in the surface of a lacquered sideboard. The bee was my mother’s and sums her up, always on the move, hardworking, generous and caring, though struggling with the emotional complexity of my father. His mother warned her … he’s a closed cupboard, meaning he didn’t trust people with his inner life. I had intuitive access to this cupboard, as daughters do, but the content was so fiercely protected, even my most gentle enquiries were repelled to the day my dad died, last spring.
Then again, had he not hidden his hoard of secrets, his girl may not have sneaked through the doors of the imagination, become a seeker, an explorer, a poet, a storyteller, a writer in search of words for what intuition reveals. Where invisibles exist they act like the fungi that entangles and interconnects what is unseen, unless brought to light. I write for a small audience – lovers of the imagination, lovers of myth, and lovers of poetry – you will appreciate my book, Course of Mirrors, and its sequel to come, which turns into SF.
In last month’s post, complementing an image found on twitter, of a screaming new-born, is an image of my mother holding me close as an infant. She died 35 years ago around this time, but still visits and protects me during nights; such is the vivacious spirit of the mother bee. Apart from my parents, I’ve lost many dear ones these last decades. While every loss refills the loss jar to its brim, a crescent (presence) still abides.
Each that we lose takes part of us;
A crescent still abides,
Which like the moon, some turbid night,
Is summoned by the tides. – Emily Dickinson
Course of Mirrors 
Love this! Thanks, Ashen.
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Beautiful.
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Thanks Joe. Hope all is well with you and yours.
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Thank ♥ you.
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A fine pointed quill wrote that, and quoted that. Feel the need to talk to you. Still waiting for Shapers?
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Thank you Philippa. Would be good to talk. Email to arrange?
Shapers … I sent paper copies after the fourth round of edits to my two faithful and encouraging beta readers/editors, and to my son, who yesterday told me he likes the story, and more, enjoys the characters. Made my day. After next round I plan to submit, just don’t know to which publisher.
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Exquisite poetry and prose Ashen, especially the first item.
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Thank you, Rob ☼
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Superb post!
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Huh, thanks Zteve ☼
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You must know by now that I am not one that finds a short compact answer. I go on a bit more than that. I resonated with what you wrote. I too have felt over the last couple of years that I have lost people and things, perhaps in a different way to you. I see you have been slowly processing, as have I. Trying to understand and reminiscing maybe? That is what we are all doing this year in different ways. We are being honed and refined and learning to understand and leave things behind us, so that we can go forward loving ourselves and all of our past. Seeing the puzzle pieces fitting. Also knowing that we still have things to do for ourselves and others. I send love to you Ashen. I hope you have a lovely Christmas.
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Thanks for your visit, Gillian, and your empathy. So true … We are being honed and refined and learning to understand and leave things behind us.
Wishing you and yours a peaceful Christmas.
And yes, we still have things to do for ourselves and others ☼
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What a lovely post. I, in the past 7 years have had a number of losses as well, and in the past 12 months, it has been difficult with close family members with debilitating health issues. Thank you for sharing your beautiful story.
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Thank you, Luciana. And a big virtual hug. ☼
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Ashen, a beautiful poem and such lyrical wisdom to your prose, of memories, recollections and overwhelming warmth and love for your parents. I’m touched how the ‘ vivacious spirit’ of your mother is still there to protect and comfort you. Although your father kept a tight lid on his emotions I believe both you and your mother saw beyond this to his hidden depths, probably feelings not even fully understood or revealed to himself. Hope I haven’t said too much … just thoughts I glean from your writing.
Wishing you a blessed 2022 and best of luck with your latest work. Xx
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Oh you’re spot on. Thanks Annika.
May many blessings come to you and yours in the New Year ☼
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Your poem is spot on about mothers or female guardians and fathers who are absenting themselves thinking no one can share their unique sensibilities and qualities. As far as loss, yes, we are being “honed and refined” by forces beyond our control. And doesn’t Emily Dickinson get right to the heart of things?
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Thank you, Mary.
Fortunately there continue many with the spirit of Emily Dickinson, including you, who get to the heart of things.
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lovely…take care
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