New Plantings Take Root

Well, it’s happened. We knew it would. The sun is warming and waking our frozen earth, opening its little windows to coax the crocus and daffodils, hyacinth and daphne, to peek out and take a look around. That last little snowstorm was just a test of faith. The light now is both stronger and softer. Smells from the kitchen are different and the old cherry tree outside my window is showing off its tiny pink nubs yet again. The new season has officially arrived. Hope springs eternal.

Following my most recent post about a couple of reasons why March has special meaning for me, I received messages from mothers who had also lost sons and others who couldn’t imagine surviving the death of a child.  The messages were comforting and affirming and I was grateful for them all.

It is still March, Women’s History Month still going strong and International Transgender Day of Visibility ready to take the stage on the 31st.  April is waiting in the wings with National Poetry Month and Passover, and for those who practice Christianity, particularly Catholicism, the sacrificial season of Lent has already begun, not as stridently sacrificial as our Muslim neighbors, who for the month of Ramadan, eat and drink nothing between sunrise and sunset, but something … alcohol, sugar, chocolate, pizza, Instagram, using the f-word …  something.  And all in preparation for the approaching Glory of Easter … not the chocolate bunny and egg hunt kind, but the renewal of grace, forgiveness, redemption, and faith in a joyous and pain-free afterlife basking in eternal light.

For whatever reason (I’ve stopped questioning where this stuff comes from) all that reminded me of a poem by Darrell Alejandro Holnes, a talented young Afro-Panamanian writer, performer, and educator. The poem is about Michelangelo’s famous sculpture, Pieta, where Jesus, after being taken down from the cross lies across the lap of his mother, Mary.  Unpainted, the sculpture is pure grief in all its nakedness.

Now, to be clear … to the best of my knowledge, I have never been compared to Mary and my Mike was far from being Jesus.  Yet, the words from “Pieta by Michelangelo: Marble, 1499” cannot help but ring true.

… perhaps the statue’s grief would be brought to life by a mix of
cerulean and indigo swirling in crimson and scarlet.
But there is no scarlet for the woman who watches the
breath she gave her godly child float away from his body in a
last exhale. There is no scarlet for the man who
knew the world would betray him and still let it take his life.
There is no scarlet for the world who kills its young or for
the god who lets his son die.

The late poet, William Stafford, after losing his son Brett, wrote about that special kind of grief in his poem, “Tragedy”. ….   “You’ll get over it,” they say. / And maybe, after years, you do, / or at least some of the time when / it’s quiet, or during music, you almost do.

And this one is from me, written some years after the departure of both my parents.

Anniversary

Today I come again to the end
of that season when against its will
my heart is swept up and wrapped
in swirling layers of snow.

Each year the storm is shorter
and less intense, but those who
left my life in winter will not go
unnoticed.

We all have our rituals.

Today I come again to that patch
of early violets and kneel down
eager to bury my face again
in their newness … so thirsty
for the fragrance of purple.

New light breaks through clouds
melting the last layers of gray
and I feel myself warming,
opening to a season rich
with promise.

We all have our rituals.

And so we go on. New plantings take root and flowers bloom again. In these times, it is children and music that give us hope. “We hear babies cry, we watch them grow. They’ll learn much more than we’ll ever know. And I think to myself …

And about that celebration of Visibility on March 31st …  Here in Portland, Oregon, we mourn the loss of our Beloved Icon Darcelle XV, the Drag Queen of All Drag Queens, famous the world over … at 92 a rascal to be sure, their generosity of spirit as famous as their costumes. May You Rest in Peace, Dear One!

And just in case you missed the “Your Life” video by the amazing poet Andrea Gibson, that we featured back in July, I hope you’ll take the time to watch it here now.

Published by Sulima Malzin

This 'Aging Rascal & Occasional Writer' invites you to embrace the world through her open window of poetry, art, activism, music, and humor.

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