Tag Archives: making

How Hard

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

 
We talked about children,
their schooling,
their boyfriends.
How they are becoming
serious about their relationships.

We talked about children
becoming people.
How hard it is.

We talked about
how hard creating
a new piece of art is.

How much energy
the making of art takes —
an extraordinary piece of art.

How hard that is:
Like the yellow orchid
in the forest this morning
among the blue waters.
How hard the earth struggled
to bring about that flower:

Like my ancestors
that were sailors,
sailing to other lands —
among the blue waters —

how hard.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

The Bread Maker

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

She had forgotten
how to make the bread,
how it had to feel
just right
before she laid it down
to rest.

She had forgotten
how to walk and talk

until
the old nurse came
to her at midnight
and pulled her
from her nightmare dream,
doing the work
of a true healer.

She had to relearn
the little things,
the simple things—
like how to make bread:

how to make the bread dough
feel like a baby’s skin
when it is ready
to rest and do its work—

like a baby feels
when you lay it down
to sleep
to do its work
of growing.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry