At the End, All I Know Is to Sing to My Mother *
Who can blame the ear
opening, as it is, into its own sheer truth?
Mouths open. Last words flown up into the trees.
I can still hear the way those lines reverberated in the air,
that great vault we spoke of,
the way the unsayable rests at the back of the tongue,
primal cry of the human, raw and plain.
I couldn’t name it, the sweet
thin buzz of hunger, constant hum,
the song inside the song
holding something that requires a great tenderness.
Isn’t that the language of the holy,
the delicate mechanism of the heart,
mysterious in its workings, its oiled
naked intimacy?
All day long it continues, each kindness
like a flower opening frame by frame.
The world is such an unexpected feast.
Make a small altar to it,
a bed of memory
filled with that first, unspeakable light
into which the sparrows of sorrow tumble.
* Cento using lines found in the poetry collections Only As the Day is Long by Dorianne Laux & Bonfire Opera by Danusha Laméris
17 thoughts on "At the End, All I Know Is to Sing to My Mother *"
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Karen, I always admire your centos, and this one is wonderful.
Thank you.
I am not sure if the opening is yours or borrowed but it is beautiful
“Who can blame the ear
opening, as it is, into its own sheer truth?”
Kevin
Thank you. Only the title is mine.
I am in awe of your ability to put together such beauty!
Thank you, Nancy!
the sweet thin buzz of hunger . . .lovely lines in a poem full of lovely lines.
You have gotten me so interested in the cento form. This is gorgeous.
Thank you!
You had me from the title.
Oh, Karen, this is so, so lovely, & so true. My favorite lines: “the way the unsayable rests at the back of the tongue,” & “the sweet thin buzz of hunger.” And the ending is perfect, sweet, & powerful.
Thank you, T.M.
great Cento:
The world…an unexpected feast
Thanks!
Nice, Karen.
Thank you, Melva.
My mother-in-law is still living and dying. She asked John, her first born, what it’s like to die.