16 November 2013

Repost- January Child




January Child

I came along in the dead of winter
born in my own time three weeks late.
Father was at work.
Mother begged a ride from a neighbor
to go and do her woman's work alone.
She napped me on the porch
to be toughened by the snows
and gales of winter,
to cut my teeth on New England nor'easters
and fight the undeclared war against girls.
Middle child, only girl, small for my age.

Both brothers slept the porch in spring
took for granted the abundance
of our neighborhood, the visitors and friends,
the elms and hyacinths, maples and forsythias,
spring greens, yellows and new hues,
the migratory flocks parading back to northern homes.
Both boys read books, played quiet games
grew fat on father's favor.

I grew to a storm-wintered warrior child
sight practiced on bare lilac thicket,
schooled by wind in how the world sounds,
cries accompanied by blackbirds and jays,
layered against the elements.
Perhaps my skirmishes were attempts
to win that unwinable war
but I fought with the fury of calling,
battered brothers' enemies,
marshaled anger from hidden fronts
as I gave birth to myself.


The fabulous Fireblossom over at Imaginary Gardens with real Toads asked us to pick the favorite poem that we've written and repost it for Simply the Best. Mine was posted on 11/15/11.

12 comments:

  1. Most powerful. I like the layering of images, all defining moments that made this January child survive the weather and circumstances beyond her control.

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  2. Oh my. You, too? I say that because i feel as if i gave birth to myself, as well, or at least rebirth.

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  3. Really a strong poem, Mary. I can see why you would choose it--it just rings beautifully from stanza to stanza, with that compelling beginning, just-right narrative middle and triumphant resolve. Excellent work.

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  4. wow. true story? napped you on the porch to toughen you up...wow...and it worked you know...smiles...interesting too the difference with the boys....really like that last line as well...on birthing yourself...

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  5. "I grew to a storm-wintered warrior child".....how I love that! This is a fantastic write!

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  6. "grew fat on father's favor." That is marvelous writing. Conjures such a rich image.

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  7. It's very strong, like you, Mary. I love it. I didn't see it before, so thank you for giving me a chance to read it now. :-)

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  8. What a lovely story poem ....

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  9. Wow, the strength oozes out of this description of a world toughened woman who managed it seems to keep intact in spite of snares of the world. I enjoyed this a lot and the pacing of the writing was perfect. Great work.

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  10. I love this...so powerful, and so many wonderful turns of phrase.

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  11. This part:
    Both boys read books, played quiet games
    grew fat on father's favor.

    I grew to a storm-wintered warrior child
    sight practiced on bare lilac thicket,
    schooled by wind in how the world sounds,

    I love the way it sounds. And then to end it with, 'schooled by wind in how the world sounds,'.

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  12. It was my classroom, that porch in winter. Helped shape me those jays and bare branches and that wind.

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