for the yellow lady and KB
Her god is sunflower yellow,
the color space in the spectrum
a deity might surf—a god
of dandelions and honey,
darkening to the amber
of petals when they fade.
He says, with cynicism,
if there is a god, he is plaid,
crossbarred and patterened,
tangled in a looming
of dropped threads and sarcasm
spun faster than Clotho spins life:
That we are measured and cut is given,
but by what rule and whose scissors?
I say god, go(o)d, goddess–
however one addresses
the maker of all flowers
is the toddler my daughter was,
naked and fingerpainted,
her skin rainbowed like no promise
ever arced after a flood,
in the midst of the glorious mess she made
and laughing because of it.
Oh. A poem written for me, about me, about your daughter, the true god who none of us can defy. So magnificent. Thank you.
No, thank you! “God is yellow” stuck in my head for hours, which I mentioned to my editor, who replied with the plaid thing–I had to write about it. Thanking you SO much for the inspiration.
Beautiful Susan!>KB
Thanks so very much, KB!
“In the midst of the glorious mess she made and laughing” Perfect with mud pies.
Yes. I imagine the goddess of this poem up to the elbows in mud, if not more. She’s like that.
What is it about mud? Lovely, sweet smelling stuff. Very alive.
It is lovely stuff.
I love the symbolism !
Thanks, Deb!
So many places one goes with the first two, and you find the perfect place to end the choice. I’ll second that!
Nelle, thanks! Think I have exhausted god poetry for a week, at least.
The gods and goddesses of our hearts; they dictate our pace. And we love it so. |wonderful write
Celestine–thank you! I had so much fun loving this, I am sure my goddess is smiling!