Casa Grande

 

wherein

life holds death

and

death holds life

 

she sits in stillness

on a sandstone shelf of ruins,

longing for a moment to rest her eyes

snatch sleep from the scars of crumbling walls,

a wary mother ignores her babies’ cries

waiting for night when life revives

 

wherein

life holds death

and

death holds life

 

the unwitting desert mouse, snatched

a weary mother mourns:

Did you wrap the gilded frames?

Bury the blankets?

Burn the furniture?

What remains?

 

wherein

life holds death

and

death holds life

 

silence returns, surrenders

a desert mother whispers to the walls,

“Watch over my babies; may their hope

outgrow this place.”

 

 

April 19, 2022

 

©draft, Patricia J. Franz

I attended my first-ever, in-person poetry workshop this week (to celebrate National Poetry Month) at the beautiful Casa Grande Ruins National Monument.

Casa Grande preserves what remains of an ancestral Sonoran desert people’s farming community and “Great House.” Poetry in the Parks was hosted by poet Jodie Hollander, a professional poet of 10 years and author of “My Dark Horses.” Jodie had a dream to bring writers together to explore the poetry of place.

Our morning consisted of conversation, breaking open a couple of poems, writing prompts, and sharing our “s-@&!-y first drafts” (as Anne Lamott would say). Spring in Coolidge, Arizona looks a lot like extreme summer in most other places, which is to say, temps ticked toward 95 degrees by the time the workshop ended. But our writing time hovered in “the grateful 80s” and the Great House, Casa Grande, shared enough shade that I was able to craft this poem.

Happy Earth Day!

Poetry Friday logo

Not only has Margaret at Reflections on the Teche organized us for the 2022 Progressive Poem, she is also hosting this week’s #PoetryFriday roundup. And if you will, send up a prayer for Margaret’s dad and mom and family. 

 

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