Circling Home (PDF)
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Ms. Rush's poetry both enlightens and sustains as it explores the past and anticipates the future. By taking uncompromising risks, she makes startling connections between love and death, loss and victory, and what she accomplishes with her poetry has been compared to what Eugene O'Neill did in the theatre: an in-depth exploration and re-evaluation of the much loved myths of the American family and American Dream. As a descendent of the original Mormon pioneers and child of the West, she knows her subject matter intimately. She questions what values we should choose to propel us safely into the twenty-first century and by peeling away accepted layers of hypocrisy, she captures intense pain and ecstasy with both clarity and passion.
"Her poems are marked by acute observation.... Penetrating insight presented in clear and compelling language."-Senator Eugene McCarthy.
Hidden away in a drawer
beneath my lace nightgown
lies Gréât Grandmother`s
rosé sachet.
An extravagant luxury
born in thé heart
of thé désert. Cuttings
cradled across endless
plains, pétais dried
from prized bushes,
lovingly nurtured
from parched sand.
Rare rosé pétais to saturate
a bridai bower. Musky
scent to soften hungry
children`s screams.
Opiate to salve
broken promises,
unfulfilled dreams.
Like frankincense
and myrrh, a célébration
of hope
in thé désert
passed from mother
to daughter, mother
to daughter, mother
to daughter.
At night, in my lace
gown, I remember
my future.
Photographs
1 (1846)
In thé rain-soaked crowd
at thé end of thé wharf,
she clutches thé loden cape
around her frail body.
It whips in thé sea wind.
She presses a handkerchief
to wet cheeks.
Her determined hand
once again brushes
thé dark hair away
from stinging lids.
Thèse eyes must seize
his silhouette,
burn forever thé curve
of her first-born`s
cleft chin into her mind.
As thé tall ship escapes
thé English dock, she lets
go of thé cape, waves.
Her palm at first beats
thé air like hummingbird`s
wings, but then slows down
like thé pendulum on death`s
clock. The small hand slaps
at thé wind long after
thé ship has sailed beyond sight,
toward Zion, God, America.
Dusk slips into thé ship`s empty
berth. The crowd déserts
thé angry sea. Her worn body alone
faces west.
The heaving deck shudders
with shivering passengers
reluctant to go below
as they capture their last look
at family, wave their farewell
to England. George Romney stands erect
at thé stern, a man about twenty,
garbed in black, clutching "thé Book
of Mormon" in both hands. His tearless
face, open with faith, stares west.
My now grown-up son`s picture captures
his blond curls, blue eyes. A broad
smile floods his two-year-old face.
Snapped before he rocked with pain:
ear infections, allergies, dyslexia.
Last y ear frozen water pipes burst, deluging
thé basement. Ail of our family albums
ruined. I rummage in my large black
purse trying to find thé picture. My fingers
grasp only small change, paper clips,
a bright red lipstick, an old bail-point
pen.
- Autor: Cheryl Romney-Brown
- 1989, 1. Auflage, 126 Seiten, Englisch
- Verlag: Digitalia
- ISBN-10: 0916379590
- ISBN-13: 9780916379599
- Erscheinungsdatum: 01.01.1989
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- Größe: 1.71 MB
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