Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Montreal Musings

Downtown Montreal
on a quiet Sunday evening

February, 
winter resilient
clings to window panes

wind howling down Sherbrooke 
streets deserted,


cafes filled with students,
eyes fixed on glowing screens
preparing
for far off
Destinies
 

And I, 
a lone mother

walk gingerly 
through the slush

Hugging this city
That my child inhabits



 

A room, my own

As I sit in a kitchen 
slowly lightened 
By Rashmee , 
the rays of the sun

I realize perhaps this sister
Wasn't talking
of physical rooms
 at all

Maybe she spoke of room
To feel, 
to observe, 
to be
Just me

And perhaps to write
With the indelible ink

Of experience 
and ways of knowing
So far silenced

And to say to myself 
first with conviction

I know because 
this
Was my journey
My map 
and my story
I carry my room within me
Today
Never again 
Will I be without room
To tell my stories

Grade 2 magic- just for a day

On a snowy, slushy day
Winter's last hurrah


I walked to the school
that my son attended years ago


And lost my heart to


The sweet questions
And proffered gifts
Of 7 year olds


Paper butterflies,
Shining eyes

Maybe someday, mine
A primary classroom!

Primary pleasures






From 6 am 
with a window sill
covered in snow


To trees laden
And streets deserted
And lots of sunshine
And smiles


Where a few plastic sticks
Become a snowflake
A tree and a spinner


Exupery smiles

Truth and reconcilation...Again?

After the soul searching
And the deep thought
Comes the standing up
And heavy lifting
So that a hundred years later
Some half dead apology
Is not issued to the people
We harm today