MARTHA AT THE MOTHER HOUSEA Poem by Terry CollettA GIRL GOES TO THE MOTHER HOUSE
Martha was shown
into a parlour inside the front door of the mother house by a plump nun in black and white who looked like a penguin out for a stroll wait in there she said someone will fetch you in time so Martha looked around the room at the plain white walls the heavy curtains at the windows the huge crucifix on the wall opposite whose plaster Christ seemed battered an aged the plaster had lines and cracks on the legs and arms and the hands were contorted like a crab on its back with rusty nails holding them in place she moved nearer and reached up a hand so that her fingers could touch the feet of Christ and run them over the toes and feel the nail going through the feet she rubbed her fingers there she used to rub the crucifix in her grandmother's house the big one over the double bed and if she stood on the bed she could reach right up to touch the face and beard and see if she could hear Him breathe or if she reached really high she could feel His nose which on her grandmother's Christ the nose seemed broken and her grandmother said that was where her grandfather had thrown a shoe in temper and crack the plaster nose will he go to Hell? she recalled asking her grandmother O no her grandmother said not just for that and she was pleased because she liked her grandfather and his simple ways and hard toffees she felt each toe in turn moving a finger over the plaster and remembered her school friend Mary who had pressed chewing gum into the bellybutton of the plaster Christ in the cloister of the convent school back in the 1960s and when Sister Bede saw it she had to gently chiselled it out with a screwdriver threatening severe punishment to the girl responsible but no one told and even when she left years after the bellybutton of the Christ still had the scar where Sister Bede had chiselled too hard there was a cough behind her and Martha turned and there was a nun standing by the door her eyes dark like berries and her thin mouth slowly opened and she said are you the girl who wants to be a nun? Martha nodded her head and the nun told her to follow her and she went down a dim lit passageway the nun in front pacing slow each footstep measured her hands tucked out of sight with only the sound of her heels going clip clop clip clop on the flagstones and the black habit swaying very gracefully as she walked no more words no questions no answers because no one talked. © 2013 Terry CollettReviews
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1 Review Added on June 6, 2013 Last Updated on June 7, 2013 Tags: GIRL, MOTHER HOUSE, CRUCIFIX AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more..Writing
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