The family flake slicks back her hair
and falls to work like a field hand -
putting buckets beneath the storm sky;
then, bearing them away.
Angels stay their hands from her bags of sand;
they know she's bound by birth to the grains,
and that she cannot see that the flood has come
for fighting against the rain.
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Monday, January 27, 2014
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
16 comments:
HHmmmmm I think I know her!!
Those last two lines really sink in,MZ--as always, I don't know how you manage to put so much into so few words--the sense of futility, of pressure, and of the enormity of nature's forces is just immense in this tiny poem, yet it is strong enough, like the flake herself, to hold everything up.
Perhaps not your intention, but I think of the delicate perfection of a single snowflake and how easily it would melt away in the rain - yet it cannot be anything but itself. It's a metaphor for the way some people live their lives, unable to adapt to changing circumstances.
I think I am the flake in my family..or was...I tried to hold up a family that didn't care to be lifted...brilliant write
Every family has one, I think. At least mine does. But you made her sympathetic rather than frustrating. I think I found a little more compassion for my family flake.
O. I feel for her and us and all who fear to see what's next. I fear to look. I look. This poem is brilliant. Thank you!
She doesn't sound like a flake to me. I feel bad for her.
"flake"... "black sheep" ? I can relate to this.. having been the oddball ...
I'm constantly blown away by your mad writing skills.
Doing the best she can against the odds. Great write.
she has to move ahead.......
reminds of a Pearl S Buck short story, of a peasant fighting the rise of the Yellow River.
I don't know if the poet is the one in the family who doesn't know it - or does, in that flakey way -- but to imagine that she is makes the reading of this poem an oblique form of self-reflection. What are we up to, anyway?
One is aware of one's vulnerability in the face of trying times. A good reflection as it is a sign of being prepared! Nicely MZ!
Hank
these few lines provide
a wide view into the life
of one
who does not fit
does not fight
continues on despite
futility
This is a wonderful, powerful poem. Love the way you create such strong characters in such a concise poem.
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