Grit

Ida is an old soul and the fiercest person I know. She was blessed with an abundance of that ‘no nonsense and why the hell not’, attitude.

Conversations this time had awakened deep feelings.

What must it be like going somewhere, and not know that feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb. Or, not having to endure the stares and the under- their- breaths mutterings.

Such feelings were never really shared out loud, they didn’t have to. They knew, being in the skin they were in. Ida too, had experienced this. On one occasion she was heard to say,

‘I didn’t know I was black till I came to America’. She would not elaborate.

But this too she tackled this with her attitude of “no, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife*.” This attitude had served her well; and serves her still.

Pat
7/20/21

*Zora Neale Hurston

Fathers Day

“We were talking a while ago” , her eyes searched my face.

“About papa”, I said. She had asked me where he was. I said he wasn’t here just now.

“Yes”, she nodded. and smiled, her chain of thought had reconnected.

“I loved him so much” , she said. “He was always in my corner. He would fight for me”.

Those words had never crossed her lips before. At least, never in my presence.

“I’ve never heard you say that before”, I said. “You’ve only always talked about what a pain in the ass he was” I said, as those words left me, it felt like a reflex action.

“You both were a pain in the ass to each other”, I quickly interjected. as a correction. I am shocked to hear there was love there.

“He did tell me that he loved you” , she seemed as surprised to hear it, just as I was way back when he said it.

In all the years I’ve been on this earth, all I’ve ever seen between these two was fighting. At times, it felt like they were fighting to the death. In my young mind I wondered what would happen to me and my sisters and brother if one of them killed the other.

Now here she sits, in a confused state laced with moments of clarity, professing her love for my father who no longer among the living. I didn’t have the heart to tell her this earlier, today of all days. It was Fathers Day. And she was treading the waters of unfinished business.

Pat
6/20/21

Spirits

smudged skies

Plumes of smoke follow her
swirling as she moves from room to room

“Smudging mean spirits”, she explains

As she moves about, there were whispered words escaping her lips. His young mind wonders,
“Who is she talking to?”

He’d best be well behaved today.

Pat
6/15/21

For dVerse Piers Pub where Mish is hosting and the word to be included is “Smudge”. It is Quadrille Monday. To join or read go here.

https://dversepoets.com/2021/06/14/quadrille/

Belles

Today, rain clouds was again drawing lines in the sky turning day into night. Eerie takes hold. It was day two of this turbulence. Yesterday it shed the tears I’ve been holding back.

This was fast mirroring my mood. Then the sun broke through.

a first glimpse

of the belles of summer –

fireflies

Pat
6/10/21

Linking to OLN over at dVerse where Lillian is hosting. To see other entries or participate go here