Monday, January 27, 2014

Flake

The family flake slicks back her hair
and falls to work like a field hand -
putting buckets beneath the storm sky;
then, bearing them away.

Angels stay their hands from her bags of sand;
they know she's bound by birth to the grains,
and that she cannot see that the flood has come
for fighting against the rain.

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

16 comments:

Sylvia K said...

HHmmmmm I think I know her!!

hedgewitch said...

Those last two lines really sink in,MZ--as always, I don't know how you manage to put so much into so few words--the sense of futility, of pressure, and of the enormity of nature's forces is just immense in this tiny poem, yet it is strong enough, like the flake herself, to hold everything up.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Perhaps not your intention, but I think of the delicate perfection of a single snowflake and how easily it would melt away in the rain - yet it cannot be anything but itself. It's a metaphor for the way some people live their lives, unable to adapt to changing circumstances.

Susie Clevenger said...

I think I am the flake in my family..or was...I tried to hold up a family that didn't care to be lifted...brilliant write

steph said...

Every family has one, I think. At least mine does. But you made her sympathetic rather than frustrating. I think I found a little more compassion for my family flake.

Susan said...

O. I feel for her and us and all who fear to see what's next. I fear to look. I look. This poem is brilliant. Thank you!

Fireblossom said...

She doesn't sound like a flake to me. I feel bad for her.

Robert Bourne said...

"flake"... "black sheep" ? I can relate to this.. having been the oddball ...

Kathryn said...

I'm constantly blown away by your mad writing skills.

Grandmother (Mary) said...

Doing the best she can against the odds. Great write.

Vandana Sharma said...

she has to move ahead.......

grapeling said...

reminds of a Pearl S Buck short story, of a peasant fighting the rise of the Yellow River.

blueoran said...

I don't know if the poet is the one in the family who doesn't know it - or does, in that flakey way -- but to imagine that she is makes the reading of this poem an oblique form of self-reflection. What are we up to, anyway?

kaykuala said...

One is aware of one's vulnerability in the face of trying times. A good reflection as it is a sign of being prepared! Nicely MZ!

Hank

Kim Nelson said...

these few lines provide
a wide view into the life
of one
who does not fit
does not fight
continues on despite
futility

razzamadazzle said...

This is a wonderful, powerful poem. Love the way you create such strong characters in such a concise poem.