After the wedding between Sophia Wood and Erik Saucedo
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Story of the Marriage of Two Souls
The orchid dancer
worried all night
that the storm
would keep the two souls
from being married.
But the jumping waters
that dance into the sky
did not come.
The love of the village
was so great that it
pushed back the whirling winds.
The two souls were
finally married,
and everyone celebrated
long through the night.
An eagle had flown over
earlier that day
and told us it would be so.
At our granddaughter Sophia's wedding, Ethel wrote one poem for the wedding that she read out loud during the ceremony. A friend of our daughter Mary read another poem by Ethel that was written 55 years ago during our courtship. Then, at the reception I sat down and wrote a poem commemorating the event as the mariachi band played and people people danced as sunlight streamed out of the clouds for the first time all day.
The poem Ethel read:Hope
Dear Grandmother,
today your great, great granddaughter
is getting married
to a fine, young man,
and they promise their love
is greater than their parents’ love
and their grandparents’ love.
They promise they will be happier
than their parents were
or their grandparents.
And they promise their children
will be loved more than all
the ancestors put together.
Dear Grandmother,
this is their promise,
and this is our hope.
The poem from 55 years ago:
How Could I Know?
It looks to me as though
you’ve been around, perhaps,
since time began—
and I have lived at least
as long.
Oh? Only that much time?
I’m sure there was no life
before for you or me.
How could I know your face
so well?
As well as some old rock
I’ve seen hang, clinging
to a mountain wall,
and I know what wave of brightness,
or of darkness, to expect there
waiting for me.
You step and make some rounded move.
I know beforehand which way to go.
How could I know? Unless. . .
You’ve been around, perhaps,
since time began.
I know I’ve lived at least as long.
The poem I wrote:At My Granddaughter’s Wedding
First the bald eagle above the bay,
water dancing light on lines of waves,
then cranes in the greening field,
Babies and parents communicating
with legs, moving necks, and wings in the sun,
and then the rumor of storms
brewing black clouds in the north,
stirring with big winds.
But then, after a night of worry,
the ceremony was to be outside,
the wedding day came, cloudy,
a fifty percent chance of rain.
But then the rain didn’t come.
Wedding roses lined paths
to the small wooden church.
Then, the words as ancient
as human spirits, were spoken
by the bride and groom,
and then the sun came out
as the mariachi celebration began,
as clouds thinned,
and my granddaughter and her love danced
as music rose into an evening sky—
and love was everywhere.
Everywhere.
a classical musician and poet, sent Ethel a poem about one of her drawings:
Sherry Grant’s poem:
To Your Melody
By Sherry Grant (Op.2786) 2021-11-22
Utter magic! Webs of colours you freely spin, Bittersweet young passion, time left beguiled, Hesitant tears rush, sensation penetrates skin, Hopelessly tangled knot, hearts racing wild. At the edge of a dream two unicorns meet, Sigh after sigh, clearer the shape of ecstasy, Each ascension a fresh fountain so sweet, This heaven built for you and me, our intimacy.
The High Window is an important poetry review site dedicated to covering international poetry in Great Britain. The High Window just published a major review by the British poet John Looker, artwork by Ethel Mortenson Davis, and poems from Meditation on Ceremonies of Beginnings published by Tribal College Press, written by Thomas Davis. This is just a stunning issue of the website, at least from where I sit in the universe.
Dog
The way you buried
your nose in my hand
made me unable to forget you
that cold morning
at daybreak.
Skin and bones you were.
Perhaps a boot to your neck,
or starvation
sent you fleeing to my gate,
asking for help.
So I let you in.
I’ll tell you
what hope is.
It’s not going
to the grocery store
and getting yelled at
for bringing your
screaming son along
and then next week
doing it again.
It is breaking through
the thick cloak that surrounds him
and finding a small increment
of communication,
reaching down into
the cylinder of autism
and pulling out
shafts of light.
Ethel Mortenson Davis has two poems in the new issue of Poetry Hall, an English/Chinese journal that is available in the United States and and China. A Chinese scholar translated Ethel’s poems, and they appear in English and Chinese. You can order the journal at amazon. It’s really inexpensive. The title of Ethel’s poems are “The Room” and “Snow Goose.” “Snow Goose” was written when we joined Francha Barnard in Egg Harbor at the library for a session on writing Ekphrastic poetry!
Ethel and I guest edited the latest issue of Bramble, the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets publication. Ethel’s art is on the cover. We want to thank by Christine Kubasta and Tori Welhouse for their help. This was a great experience, and we hope lots of people will look and see what fantastic poets Wisconsin has! If you want copies you can order them from amazon now, or you can read the entire issue online!
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