Eleutheria
by Bill Yarrow
Eleutheria, searching for asters
for the wedding of her son, bent
in the hedge and thought about
the letter she had just received
from her father. It was incoherent.
Was he failing? Could that be possible?
She watched an inky cloud suck
all the color from the trees. She
observed a conspiracy of garden moths
circle The Rock of Prayer. Walking over
to the frog pond, she stared at her
muddy self. Something had congealed.
With the wedding a week away, she saw
her childhood gone. And now suddenly his had
returned. Well, there was nothing to be done.
Nothing to be done and still so much to do.
She examined her reflection in the water.
It began to rain. Her reflection glared back.
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Author's Note
A version of poem was published in fwriction : review on November 17, 2011.
Thanks, Danny Goodman!
"Eleutheria" appears in THE VIG OF LOVE (Glass Lyre Press, 2016).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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"her childhood was gone. His had returned." so much said. *
Sometimes, the rain slants into your eyes so painfully day after day you almost go blind and you begin to think you know all about rain, that you're becoming a damned rain expert, but then, when you really lose them, you understand you didn't know a thing about rain, not at all.*
I like the first two stanzas very much.
I like the rain part (could be because I live up here in Vancouver where it behooves one to like the rain). After nothing can be done with so much to do. There's sadness in this, but also a great deal of peace. Beautiful. *
"Her childhood was gone. His had returned." Beautiful. *
Strange, eleuthive title, one that references half a dozen possibilities, but an arrsting poem. fv
beautifully observed, Bill.
"She watched an inky cloud suck all the color
from the trees."
Great imagery at work, Bill. Good phrasings. *
Bill this is a beautiful poem that holds its ground.
*
Great poem, Bill. Fave.
This is wonderful. So full of emotion and I want it to go on.
Fave, by the way!
I'm a bit out of words to comment on this. Maybe your "inky cloud" sucked all words from me? But the poem still lives inside.
Fantastically good. The irony of “Eleutheria“ (freedom?) makes the piece even sadder at the “congealed” burden your character carries with such heart weight. And I like especially how the poem’s two ending rain images catch her iconic despair in all you pack into those 3 bludgeoning stanzas—even more so with the juxtaposed asters/wedding/her son of the opening lines.
The rhythm of this is perfect. And the sadness is potent over her father's failing health, but described so concisely. Very nice work.
the music in this is perfect.
Love the "conspiracy of garden moths" and "Her childhood was gone. His had returned." is some damn beautiful heartbreaking stuff, Bill.
*****+*=******
The praise above, but want to add fine use of rhythm. Greatly enjoyed. -- Fave
Excellent. *
Loved what you named her. Give me freedom or give me death.