 |
| In Her Mother's Hands by Shawn St Jean |
the steering wheel
as though it were a shield
as though she were in battle
flashing bangles
'stead of steel.
A diamond glints,
hard stone
on soft skin.
My mother's hands,
win.
- Shaista, 2011
inspired by Gigi at The Magpie's Fancy and the fact that today, 6th of March, begins a week of global events, celebrating women. Perhaps you could find a Women for Women International event near you? It's called Join Me on the Bridge, and this year celebrates the 100th anniversary of Women's Day :)
Oh, Shaista, this is just the poem to kick off such a special and important week. Thanks for linking back to my place, and for being an inspiration.
ReplyDeletexo Gigi
A beautiful poem, Shaista. And I so love the photo - so beautiful!
ReplyDeleteGreat poem. Thanks so much for sharing it with all of us.
ReplyDeletehttp://timkeen40.wordpress.com
Your mother sounds like a very strong woman....much like you....
ReplyDeleteflashing bangles
ReplyDelete'stead of steel ~
very sweetly expressed :)
What a wonderful poem and what a wonderful photo! Nothing like the innocence of a small child; so trusting, so helpless, so loving. I am interested in what you wrote about over at Maggie's Secret Garden: the listening sangha...could you elaborate or send me some info about it? Thanks!
ReplyDeleteOh, Shaista, you are so talented. Beautiful...!
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love your masthead picture. Look at the expression on the elephant's face. Omigoodness!
Love this poem, I know how your mom drives (I've been in the car with her!!). :) Hugs & kisses to your mum!
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to an inspiring week!
This made me giggle. Mine used to hold the steering wheel stiff and defensively. Yes, like going to battle!
ReplyDeleteThe strength of women indeed. My mother's hands . . .
ReplyDeleteBeautiful photo and your poem is really good. A late Happy Women’s Day!
ReplyDeleteOn the post below - how cool to be on the radio and invited back!
Wonderful juxtaposition of softness and hardness. A mother's hands are a wonderful paradox. And to think, they are made without the asking, but rather through the simple passing of babe from womb. (Although even that is not so simple. More drugs, please.)
ReplyDeleteWhen my children were born, so too was born a new part of me.
A beautiful write, Shaista. Glad your mother holds you so.
xo
erin
I have no gift of poetry at all, so I'm always impressed with your skill and mastery of verse and words.
ReplyDeleteI just sent some artwork to a new literary magazine for poets and artists. I was so chuffed to hear back from them that they'd like to see more of my work, and I was just thinking "Oh, I know the PERFECT poet to feature in the first edition!" So, if you've the energy and inclination, http://touchpoetry.submishmash.com/Submit .
Ashe!