Monday, June 20, 2011

Patience

Wait, 2011

In the silence and the sun she ate one cucumber, one cashew, and broke off one small piece of cheese. She took three books from her table and read one poem from each book. All of the one note, one beat, singular actions were leading up to something more. She'd know it when it arrived. Patience. But the noise in the hallway did not allow it. It howled, smelled of burnt rubber, and bounced off the base of her door. It demanded her attention. She stood before the mirror and saw her mother. The sun moved south. Fragments beckoned.

16 comments:

  1. I've been thinking on and off about this post since reading it early yesterday. And I think it's an accomplishment when a writer writes something that readers find themselves revisiting long after reading it. It's not so important that readers understand everything on the page...but that they want to.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Your words are always thought provoking. Funny, no matter what we are waiting for, we must still deal with the world around us. Nicely written.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ah yes - the hums and buzzes that must be attended to... and the search.
    lovely.
    thank you.
    and for coming by my space and commenting.
    i so appreciate it.
    always.

    ReplyDelete
  4. What a tender bitter sweet moment.
    Patience...hum... I am thankful that you show how it works, that you teach me to wait, listen, slow down...

    ReplyDelete
  5. A mysterious one, but a beauty. I will reread and go back for more. Lovely...

    ReplyDelete
  6. oh, i love this part, "She stood before the mirror and saw her mother. The sun moved south". xoxo, k

    ReplyDelete
  7. i'm loving this. especially the howl and the bubbles at the bottom of the jar.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I love the photograph. Strangely my mother has this affect on me too.

    ReplyDelete
  9. All these actions bear repeating.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Nice, Denise.
    Love the mason jar shot.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I hear the rhythm of the words in this post more than the meaning of the words. I don't know if I can explain any more than that. I like the images, but when I read it they slip away and I'm left listening to the thump and pulse of a drum.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Thanks, everyone. The day felt foggy and the writing matched. I'm not so sure I should have pressed publish on this one. It happens sometimes. It's all part of the process.

    Zia, Once in a while I'll see one of my gestures and be amazed at how closely it resembles my mother. It might be in the turning of my head or the movement of my hands while talking. I know I share some ways of thinking with my dad, but the physical gestures are all Mom.

    ReplyDelete
  13. fragments do need exposure. you did it.
    n♥

    ReplyDelete