by M.C. Escher
I wish I had a servant's heart
to match these servant's hands;
a heart
more merry meet with fate.
A heart
that would nestle
serene within this vessel
and never beat against
its common state.
I have the calloused fingertips,
and silence sits well on my lips,
and yet, there's disturbance at my core.
I wish I had a servant's heart
to match my servant's hands;
instead I have a heart that thunders
MORE.
For the Sunday Mini-Challenge at Real Toads.
Also submitted to Poetry Pantry.
35 comments:
Oh, what a magnificent interpretation of Escher's mother and child. I think, as an aside, that the black and white print looks like it was made for your site, and the words echo like a cry of motherhood and wifedom through the ages. What it is to submerge ego for the sake of another. I fear I never quite succeeded.
I think many of us mothers must go through this on our journey from "me" to someone's "mom" wishing and/or remembering more.
beautiful and so, so powerful!!
Your poetry touched that place in my heart reserved for mothers only.
I love that "more" is at the beginning and at the end.
I think you are a fraud. I don't believe you can write like this AND juggle a kid AND a home AND other pedestrian responsibilities.
Instead, I think you are a wealthy writer who has dozens of "peeps" who work for you--laundering your clothes, preparing your food, styling your hair, removing the toejam from between your toes...The list of services they provide for you goes on and on.
Don't speak. Don't protest. Just let me hang onto this for a few moments.
That second stanza just *sounds* wonderful. The fact that it is only part of a poem like this leaves me searching for wig shops. But I do wonder...would you really trade that fire? Really?
Such treats, like nestle and vessel, within so much else that is perfection. A gem.
I like VERY much the thundering for MORE...what a strong voice in this poem.
We always want what we can't have, I think. I imagine only the very young and innocent or the most saintly amongst us ever capture the true servant's heart--a tremendous gift when its there. Your rhyme does so much for this MZ--it has a lullaby quality that suits the picture as a symbol of maternity, yet it also has that black and white edge of what is etched in monotone, clear and impossible to color differently. A fine poem in all ways.
I love seeing this picture through your words. What could be a zen moment, most definitely is not! Suddenly the inside of this frame is filled with energy while the rhyme and the regularity of the form says repose. Ha! Powerful.
cool take on this mama. very apt and well described -
interesting to have a heart different than our hands...you created a really intriguing rhythm in your rhyme with this as well mz
YES! That More is echoed by every mother/wife/caregiver, I think. Luckily, you find it through your poetry, and so beautifully.
Really, really, really like this! Maybe, as I see Sherry has said, we all feel that way. I know sometimes I fight against resentment. I want MORE!
Beautifully written. I especially identify with this " I have the calloused fingertips,
and silence sits well on my lips,
and yet, there's disturbance at my core."
Lovely
SO well written, and revelatory as well. You aced this one!
This touched me on so many levels--I think it never stops beating More---even after they leave
This poem makes me feel better, Mama Z, about all the non-mama-non-servant heart feelings I get from time to time and time again. Such an inspired write, truly...excellent!!
A servant's heart...it has moments of beating in me, but then my selfish me stifles it. A beautiful interpretation of the painting...like Kerry it seems to have been created for your page.
Dang you're good. Thunder on.
Oh, such delicious admission.
{{{speechless}}}
literally, i don't have the words to describe how wonderful this is, MZ!
♥
Is a servant's heart a heart of acceptance of one's lot or a heart to give? I wonder. I like verse 2. I wish for this too.
Very cool poem, MZ. Wonderful sound here. k.
Very cool poem, MZ. Wonderful sound here. k.
Brilliant! You're a poetic Betty Friedan!
cool one mama - nice lyrical flow - and wise
I'm not a mother. Most of my adult life, I lived alone except for two brief husbands.
Now I have a very demanding dog, and my present husband insists my "job" is housework.
So I do understand. My hands are a mess.
And your second stanza is a-mazing!
K
I really like where you went from this Escher picture! Very imaginative. It is always so much fun to see the different interpretations!
A powerful and beautiful write!
I could hear this soliloquy in my head - it was beautiful, and as it progressed, insistent! Excellent!
Love the contrast w/ hands and heart.
Hi MZ - you know I did this one too - very different! k.
(It's before the estrangement one - no need to look, only if interested.) Homing In? I think called. k.
Great form and cadence... Yes, a mother's song (lament?) .... I felt this one.
This, to me, is like the idea of praying for the desire to seek God. You don't actually have the desire. You just wish you did. You want to want to be a good girl. But what you actually want is to run naked through fields of wildflowers while bolts of lightning try their hardest to knock you down.
This is my favorite line:
"and yet, there's disturbance at my core"
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