Tuesday, March 4, 2008


As I lay awake, a picture came into my head.

A library, where I went as a child.

Small, but graced with shining wood

With old and brittle books,

And sculpture.

In the children's section where I stood

There was a girl,

A girl of white marble,

Not much smaller than me,

And standing on a pedestal.

She puzzled me.

She looked to be a country girl,

With rough-hewn skirt,

And a sheep at her side.

Her hand was raised,

Her fingers held something,

Something delicate, something invisible.

And her other hand held something,

Held it as if ready to let it go

(Or had she already let it go?)

Between thumb and long finger

Something thin like a shaft

Swelled in the middle

with What I could not tell.....

It blurred

As if moving, hovering.

I puzzled over that graceful white girl

When I was a girl, long ago.

Something there I could not see.

But now I see.

Now I do.

Copyright. Please do not use without permission.

"Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1

May all that puzzles you become clear.


Carissa said...

What a pretty poem! Thanks for sharing!

fiberjoy said...

Beautifully crafted. You've written a lovely picture.

Theresa said...

Great poem, nice memories!

Knit and fall back in it said...

What a beautiful picture you've painted for us, thank you.

Gravelbelly said...

The thing I remember most about that library is that we didn't need library cards for the 1st year or two after we moved there. The library workers knew us & called us by name, and just removed the cards from the back of the books at checkout time. Then they put them in a file under our name. It was so personal and friendly.

The week after library cards were introduced, not one of them called us by name again. Progress or regress?

Gravelbelly said...

I was so much focused on the memories your poem evoked that I neglected to tell you how lovely it is.