the one who writes in crooked letters
badly spelt against the red heart,
deeply felt-
too large, cut out from
the larger sheet painstakingly
with mama's sewing scissors,
is small and dressed in pink
and penciled in the margins
somewhere else I think, made fun of;
but here at home
a universe
like a rose unfolding
mary angela douglas 28 july 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you so much, Marie Shine for your lovely comment. It was a memory of my sister and I making valentines for our Mama the way children do on construction paper red and the big heart cut out and how we wrote so earnestly with love always to Mama xoxo and I used to imagine that the x's and the o's would go straight into eternity forever and be with my mother there later on and now I know that this is and was true. I also want to say ALL your poems (and comments, too) remind me of that Emily Dickinson poem I shall not live in vain...if I can stop one heart from breaking and...help one fainting robin into its nest again, I shall not live in vain and the comfort in her poem feels like the same comfort in each and everything you write. So truly, Marine Shine you do not live and you do not write in vain. Blessings to you too from a very hot but lovely blue skied summer in north carolina.