Rope.
The mother
brushes her daughter’s hair,
teases the tangles
until
knots turn
to soft, smooth locks, shining golden.
Each single
hair so fragile, could easily be pulled
from its follicle,
effortlessly snapped.
Slowly,
deliberately, she divides the whole in three
equal parts
brush on
autopilot with every stroke.
She takes
the separate tresses
plaits them together
one over the
other - delicately - and
she
remembers
she remembers
the spray of the sea on her face,
the yacht, the rope,
her father,
his strong
hands - power of nature contained there-
sails
swinging this way then that in the sway-
working
together against the elements,
his patience
unending - no let up till the thick rope is secured
firmly to the quay.
He was her life pulse, threads to her hope -
merciful, kind- her comfort,
her link to the future which now has a sad space
firmly to the quay.
He was her life pulse, threads to her hope -
merciful, kind- her comfort,
her link to the future which now has a sad space
where he is no more.
She weaves
the plait into a coil and when finished
lays her
hands on her daughter’s
shoulders
and sighs .
shoulders
and sighs .
So beautiful, Maz .
ReplyDeleteRegards,
Moon
https://aslifehappens60.wordpress.com
Ahhh, this was so lovely, and yet bittersweet. It's funny how sometimes the simplest of actions can take us back to memories stored safely away in our hearts, connecting us to those we love who have gone before us, and reminding us once again how very lost we feel without them at times. I thought your transition from the hair braid to the boat ropes was wonderful, very visual, one done on autopilot just as the other surely was. I don't think the missing our parents ever gets any easier as the years go by, we just learn to live with it because we have no other choice. <3
ReplyDeleteWhat a bittersweet connection made between braiding hair and tying boat ropes. We never know what small gestures will remind us of loved ones no longer with us.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading this so much. Your story just seemed to flow with the motions of braiding the hair, lost in thought and memories. So beautifully written.
ReplyDelete