Candle Thread

a story poem about my great grandmother and her death (when I was 17)

not long ago we were both warriors

in the fortress with potato flowers coat of arms

we had bean leaves tattooed on our chests

putting Colorado bugs in small baskets

picking up snails hiding in tall clover

tickling them with straw to push them in their shells

throwing them over the fence

in golden raspberry bushes

 

when it was stormy granny was taking out

a small white bit of candle from the cupboard

opening the greasy Psalm book

murmuring slowly until the skies were clearing up

in winter she was wrapping my feet in wool

placing them in the oven where she baked sweet potatoes

only when it smelled like spring she seemed so sad

restless saying she gets smaller year after year

slowly entering the ground

I was crying no granny don’t talk like this

her eyes were tightening like a thin thread

 

one day she began to knock with her walking stick

before each step she was taking

looking crossly downwards

there were more and more clouds

gathering between her eyelids

those mites could not have been God’s creatures

I was covering the earth in front of her

you see granny they are not here

she was always looking the other side

her chin falling the wind cutting her scruff

 

once I went away to bring water

granny was sleeping with the white candle on the table

then I saw for the first time

that circle of light in the icon above

Reviews

[A. Louis]

wow. from the first lines i could smell the air of a gray summer afternoon and hear faint rumbles of thunder.

the second verse expanded on that sensory experience. and each verse after that.

love this style. it feels very honest and nostalgic.

great writing, keep this up. would love to see more from you like this!

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thank you very much, exactly what I was told until now, other poets in my country liked more the first stanza (because this is a free translation)

[A. Louis]

may i ask what the original language is? it's so difficult to translate poetry, more so than prose or non fiction.

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

I am from Romania and I agree with you, it is difficult to translate, I had to make some adaptations and my English skills are not perfect. I am happy you liked it.

[A. Louis]

you have done very well in english! again, thank you for sharing your work & look forward to seeing more of it!

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thanks, for me it is hard to read prose on the screen, even in my own language, but I read more poems in three languages in past years (I know French but not too much). I wish you good luck and a wonderful weekend.