photo taken in Cabo San Lucus, Mexico by C. Dennis-Willingham
She is an old, old woman
full of grace but wisdom more
She rocks within her sinewed arms
a child from long before.
She serves as a reminder
(Through an image made of stone)
those passed are not forgotten, thus
we never are alone.
Painting by C. Dennis-Willingham
In the past when Papa was healthy, I learned of this parable in the Bible. I was so Enamored by that kind of love that I would ask if he or Mama would like for me to wash their feet. Only a few times did Mama succumb to my request. Even at night, her feet were too busy moving, rarely still enough for me to wash.
Papa, on the other hand, would sit in his favorite chair in the parlor and lay down the newspaper he had been reading. He would smile and laugh as I placed the soaped cloth between his toes. Our conversations would move from one subject to the next as quickly as a hummingbird searches for nectar. The ritual seemed to both invigorate and relaxed him.
Yet, when Papa had lain in his bed with a pneumonia-fed bad heart, it was not the same. Nothing was the same.
Nor will it be again.
Excerpt from Naked, She Lies, by C. Dennis-Willingham
daily word prompt: Enamored
Lyrics from one of my favorite songs.
Baby I know that we’ve got trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locust out there turning away our yield
The trains roll by our silos, silver in the rain
They leave our pockets full of nothing
But our dreams and the golden grain
Have you seen the folks in line downtown at the station
They’re all buying their ticket out and talking the great depression
Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago
When they stood out in these empty fields in dust as deep as snow
[Chorus:]
And all this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal
They’ll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John Deere
And then we’ll work these crops with sweat and tears
You’ll be the mule I’ll be the plow
Come harvest time we’ll work it out
There’s still a lot of love, here in these troubled fields
There’s a book up on the shelf about the dust bowl days
And there’s a little bit of you and a little bit of me
In the photos on every page
Now our children live in the city and they rest upon our shoulders
They never want the rain to fall or the weather to get colder
[Chorus]
You’ll be the mule I’ll be the plow
Come harvest time we’ll work it out
There’s still a lot of love, here in these troubled fields
From Nanci Griffith’s CD: Dustbowl Symphony
I am different, yet we are the same.
Please, do not lump me in a category
because you lack awareness.
Please, see me as an individual
with ideas and thoughts of my own.
Please, do not build a wall
to keep me in or keep me out because of your fear.
Instead, keep the Gate open
and your arms outstretched.
Accept me, and together
we will build a better world.
photo credit
Gate- daily word prompt
Link (if can’t view)
Today, little one, we will teach you about the ocean.
About the dolphins jumping freely in front of you.
About the feel of sand between your tiny toes.
We will teach you how to dig in the sand without eating it
and how to wait for the cool water’s tide to cover your feet.
But, no doubt, you will teach us more.
Four of us watching our tiny explorer – the little one with the yellow balloon in the background.
Love that photoshop!
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 