Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Portrait 3

    counting the beads you
                         couldn't ever stop

                wooden      colours

                                 her blesséd (sometimes) way

                    her clenched heart

         She sings, full on
                     Where's your mother gone? 

               hurt kindnesses

        her gathered necklaces


  1. Counting the beads around her neck, losing count, starting again, around, following the line, the lines, a handmade track to walk on.

  2. I believe I have heard the click of those beads.

    The endearments. The testimony of those left at the margins. The voice all but inaudible. No one much listening. Heart, hurt, mother, kindness -- things no snoop bot would ever bother to surveil. For they're not on any Company's prime-keyword list.

    Telling the Stations of the Way.

  3. Thank you, Marie and TC.

    Marie, I guess we all need a handmade track.

    Glad you drew out the faith notes here, Tom. Hadn't thought of the rosary when writing (which seems odd now).

    Very glad there's nothing for the snoop bots.