All the Mother of Pearl Babies

All The Mother of Pearl Babies

It is time to be a woman, but you squat
at the edge of the ocean, thrusting
your sturdy fingers into a fragile family of shells.
All the mother of pearl babies hidden in the sand
curl there in the white noise or rise, plucked
by the quick flick of a scavenging bird.
Their first ride on the steed of sea breeze
into the the warm wetness of exposure
is remarkable & new.
There is nothing left to do, but wait
for the plucking or the praise.
When you stand too long in one position,
the sand shifts beneath your feet,
until you are uncertain or falling
forward for balance.
I give you my hand & laughter, but the reality
is a table of time and changing tides.
You must learn to feel with your feet.
There is a solid ground further inland.
There is a compass in the rocks
& wild flowers, that spins like a top, then settles
into the confines of your hand.
It is a gift of gauging.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

it is such a pleasure to find you singing, sharing your voice of praise and depth, and hard won knowledge...

[Donald Meikle]

Wow. The need to orient oneself in the ever changing shifting sands of life. Knowing that safety and boredom are well within reach , and yet attracted by the rolling freedom of out flowing tide.

[Sel Whiteley]

Beautiful, as W.K.Kortas says, the metaphor is so controlled but so evocative. The musicality in this incredible too, the way each sound picks up on the next: 'your sturdy fingers into a fragile family of shells'. Brilliant.

[W.k.kortas]

Life, the poem. This metaphor is so tight, yet so visual and evocative, as to be almost beyond belief or praise. As good as anything you've written.