Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Kathryn Forrester Thro's poem "Somewhere"


How can one face in thousands
Speak to me of spring?
All my treasures
Hidden in the field come back to me again?

Blossoms of mimosa
Following us up the path at evening
To my father’s house,
Where my mother’s arms welcome me in at the door,
Leaves of every season rushing up to meet us
Swirl, dance, follow us up the path to the shining door.

My brother, coming in from baseball,
My father’s voice heard once again upon the stair.

The door shut safe behind us-
His presence in the house

How can the glimmer in a pair of gentle eyes
Remind me of my secret treasure,
Of all that was lost to me?

My father’s voice about the house.
Spiraling blossoms of mimosa
Their scent. Sweet girlhood lost, then gained again…

I confess, Yes I confess this sin:
Seeing something in your gentleness, a long lost treasure
Hidden on the stair

And wanting to be Spring again, somehow,

Kathryn Forrester Thro, The Glass Harp


Where shall I find rest?
Wandering on the highways,
Beaten down by life,
One of the nameless poor?
My only work that of
Itinerate artist,
My shadow plays and portraits
Such desperations,
Lovers, life, spent, squandered,
But oh the jewel,
(Who cares the price?)
a child, a pearl born to me.

Am I earth mother now?
Somehow, miraculously having
Wombed new life.

Sweet Jesus, tender Mary, patient Joseph,
Father God-Hast Thou
Brought me from wanderer
To Nest?

Let me be Holy Straw.
Scatter me then,
Through the wilderness
Under stars and shooting of moon beams.

I believe.
I believe.
I shall shout it in the streets.
Christ is Risen and rescues.

Sing it through the streets, that
The morning is bright and fair.

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Foundress of Mary's Joy, a Catholic helping hands link. Poet Laureate Emeritus of Virginia and Poet Laureate of Clan Forrester Society.