Tuesday, September 10, 2019


Seamstress @ Catschappach

I’m not immortal, 
but rebirth isn’t foreign to me;
don’t long for eternity, just renewal.  

Purity and sin, coexist, stitched together 
with threads almost bursting
from lessons learned, lessons ignored.  

I’ve shared in creation, yet claim no halo. 
My redemption gifted six times,
never mine, but oh so dear,

each diminishing my youth,
yet rescuing me from myself;
a shedding of skin,

heart offered up,
my very mortality
not as precious as theirs.  

by Margaret Bednar,  September 10, 2019

Wow - this is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Art Flash 55"  The image through me for a loop and I came back over many days rewriting and trying to feel this image and relate it to me ... it was not easy and I'm not sure I really succeeded.  Quite the challenge, Kerry! 


safehousepoetry said...

Beautifully written and shared.

Ginny Brannan said...

You captured the depth of what a mother feels. For me, your words evoked Gibran's "The Prophet" in that our children "come through us, not from us." As a mom, I feel what you have written, and think that you quite succeeded in capturing the image!