2 Poems | Mary C. Rowin

2 Poems

by Mary C. Rowin

 

I Will Carry You


Follow the cord from darkness

daughter, up, into the light.

 

You will find me weaving

dried grasses into baskets

 

large enough to hold your sorrows

strong enough for me to carry

 

to the river, tip into rushing

water, where burdens are cleansed

 

against stones, dispersed by rain

and driven far out into the sea.

 

Destination, Seaside (Aubade to a Mountain)

 

You, implacable, sit unmoved like the Buddha

you are, sunk deep into your mountain-ness.

Sun’s first rays refract crystals on your shaggy head.

 

Like clanks of cow bells rouse the milkmaid,

brightening morning warns, Time to go. So I too rise,

reach toward your face, stony like a father’s,

 

sons gone to war. But you will not miss me.

I am flesh. You are millennia. Now becoming

memory, you are dark as a Yin shadow.

 

Day is warming to a slow burn.

 


Mary C. Rowin’s poems have appeared recently in Solitary Plover, Portage Magazine, Panoply, Bramble, the literary magazine of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, and in you are here, The Journal of Creative Geography.  Mary lives with her husband and seventeen year-old cat Rio in Middleton, Wisconsin.  She is a docent at the Chazen Museum of Art and tutors English as a Second Language.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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