Demeter Speaks After a Long Silence
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Demeter Speaks After a Long Silence Rosemary Catacalos Who are you, gardener? You dig deeply into me, into the dark home of the old woman who is a childless worm, an imperfect memory of grace. She recollects everything when you touch her, grows wings and rises away from me at last. You turn the earth of so many graves: the miller, the bellmaker, the Mayan who became a doctor, the many women with fans. You expose their roots to an air suddenly made safe for the past, freeing centuries of vultures（秃鹰） that have been tied like kites to buried rooftops. You accomplish all this without violence. The blood you bring out of me is sweet, guileless, ready, laid open to the sky with amazing ease. I who have been angry for so long. I who have been the barren rock, the sand sucked dry by cactus, the wet rot of jungle floors, the hardened history of continents. Under your hand I am again the simplest of soils, clean, accepting of seed, throwing up roses that are thornless and unashamed. Who are you, gardener? How long and where have you wandered to bring me these words I had almost forgotten, this life that had almost stopped. |
