"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Monday, April 2, 2018

Second Daughter


I am the second daughter
of iron apron strings.
I was taught by spoon
and bone broth,
kettle and glass,
hunger and blessing.

My mother stood
as tall as her strength,
as angry as her pain,
as kind as her heartbreak.

I am her.
I am me.
I am grateful.

I am the second daughter
of iron apron strings
taught to speak my truth,
resist when oppressed,
have vision when others are blind.

©Susie Clevenger 2018





11 comments :

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Strong mothers raise strong daughters, as evidenced by you and your two strong amazing daughters.

Jim said...

It's a blessing to have a mom like
this. And it fits my mother perfectly.
..

Kerry O'Connor said...

My first daughter is a work of heart and my second is a work of art... the female relationships in any family are tricky to say the least but you see the roles very clearly.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

"I am the second daughter of iron apron strings taught to speak my truth, resist when oppressed, have vision when others are blind"... this is so incredibly poignant, Susie!

Outlawyer said...

A very strong image of both your mother and you comes out here Susie— a wonderfully vivid poem due to the careful choices of imagery. Thanks. K.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Then you are blessed!

(Well, I suppose I could say I was the grand-daughter of.)

rallentanda said...

You have a wonderful mother and your love for her is palpable. Beautiful and heartfelt poem.

annell said...

Beautifully done!!!

willow_switches said...

What a gripping - iron gripping opening stanza - such power in the contrast/contradiction of iron apron strings - it speaks volumes - and then flows into such an amazing "list" - almost like reading a recipe poem - traditions handed down, but with room to spice it you wish, as you are. How wonderful for the blending, fusion.

Neeraj Khanka said...

It's a wonderful write! We must be grateful and learn from our parents.
And also, be ourselves.

Anonymous said...

Iron apron strings holds so much gravitas as an image/metaphor for me and sets us up perfectly for this amazing poem.

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