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.
6 comments:
What a pretty poem! Thanks for sharing!
Beautifully crafted. You've written a lovely picture.
Great poem, nice memories!
What a beautiful picture you've painted for us, thank you.
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?
I was so much focused on the memories your poem evoked that I neglected to tell you how lovely it is.
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