Monday, April 18, 2011

First Taste

I broke a dish once
My grandmother’s
Boží Milosrdenství
It was older than her
Shards of royal blue scattered the floor
One of a set of seven

That was my first sadness

She told me
Stand still
Let me sweep
I don’t want you cut
No need for your blood here
She kissed my cheek

My first taste of grace
Off broken china
On a kitchen floor

1 comment:

Ann Grenier said...

This poem is beautiful Henry, from the heart. It expresses grace perfectly, so surprisingly at the end. I have said those words often enough myself to a child who has broken something (albeit often not as selflessly).
Thanks for visiting at my place.

I'm Just a Man (Recording Experiment ... I can't sing)

I am in the mood to change my tree to a cubic version.