What a gorgeous piece, Katie, just radiant, and I thought I'd answer your brilliance with some of Margaret Atwood's- her poem "You Begin." In their fullness, they conjure each other.
You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye,
that is a fish, blue and flat
on the paper, almost
the shape of an eye.
This is your mouth, this is an O
or a moon, whichever
you like. This is yellow.
Outside the window
is the rain, green
because it is summer, and beyond that
the trees and then the world,
which is round and has only
the colors of these nine crayons.
This is the world, which is fuller
and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way
with the red and then
the orange: the world burns.
Once you have learned these words
you will learn that there are more
words than you can ever learn.
The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
Ohhhh Laura I have never heard this poem before, and it is now one of my favorites. I have always thought in color - associating places, emotions, actions with colors. I love Margaret Atwood and I love you!
Time is a wonder, fluid and shifting. A song popped into my mind , which I cannot listen to without tearing up. Jim Croce, a little corny and so poetic.
“ if I could save time in a bottle, If words could make wishes come true, then I’d save every day till eternity passes away, just to spend it with you.” For my sister.
Oh mom this made me tear up. I will play this beautiful song and think of you and aunt Kathy, writing literature quotes on the closet walls. I love you so much.
What a gorgeous piece, Katie, just radiant, and I thought I'd answer your brilliance with some of Margaret Atwood's- her poem "You Begin." In their fullness, they conjure each other.
You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye,
that is a fish, blue and flat
on the paper, almost
the shape of an eye.
This is your mouth, this is an O
or a moon, whichever
you like. This is yellow.
Outside the window
is the rain, green
because it is summer, and beyond that
the trees and then the world,
which is round and has only
the colors of these nine crayons.
This is the world, which is fuller
and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way
with the red and then
the orange: the world burns.
Once you have learned these words
you will learn that there are more
words than you can ever learn.
The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.
It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.
Ohhhh Laura I have never heard this poem before, and it is now one of my favorites. I have always thought in color - associating places, emotions, actions with colors. I love Margaret Atwood and I love you!
Awwwww Katie! You are the best. I'm so glad you love the poem- it reminds me of you, actually. I can imagine you saying it to Ollie. XO
Time is a wonder, fluid and shifting. A song popped into my mind , which I cannot listen to without tearing up. Jim Croce, a little corny and so poetic.
“ if I could save time in a bottle, If words could make wishes come true, then I’d save every day till eternity passes away, just to spend it with you.” For my sister.
Oh mom this made me tear up. I will play this beautiful song and think of you and aunt Kathy, writing literature quotes on the closet walls. I love you so much.