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Open Poetry #46

The Storm Splitter

gilead
Senior Member

since 2008-03-10

Posts 1067
nevada, USA

0 posted 2010-02-21 09:22 PM

The kids are playing
In the open field, as huge plumes
Of cumulus build high in the west.
Silvery and bright now,
But will soon turn an ashen grey
Like billows of smoke,
And Mother’s strident voice will cry out,
Calling us to come in.
She will open her Bible to Psalm 6,
And place it on the table . . .
Then the strangest thing you’ll ever see---
She will take a rusty old axe,
And she will go to the corner of the house
Opposite the gathering storm,
And she will raise the axe high
Above her head, as if wielding the hammer
Of Thor, her eyes rolled up to heaven
As if in a trance. Then she will smite the earth,
With a single, mighty blow, sinking
The blade of the axe deep in the soil.

She will have split the storm,
She will have protected her young . . .

gilead
Senior Member

since 2008-03-10

Posts 1067
nevada, USA

1 posted 2010-02-21 09:27 PM

Superstition and rituals were a common part of the culture of my youth. Much of it was probably derived from retained "Africanisms" from the slave era. My Mother's grandmother was a living, former slave in my lifetime.

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