myhomecooking.netI remember mama
standing at her
kitchen counter
sorting pinto beans
I wrote poetry
She focused intently
removing little rocks
broken beans, dark ones,
shriveled up ones
I sorted words
One bean at a time
examining the little hard oval
as if it were a diamond
with great delicacy
she would carefully, gently
separate the keepers
from the castoffs
My words sat in little piles
waiting..
I'd say something like,
"ma, just thrown em' in the pot"
she would stop
roll her eyes, sigh
and look at me like
"stupid girl"
I looked under the surface
where poetry is
in the cracks...
Now I stand at my kitchen counter
I watch my hands
doing exactly what she did
These recipes
These poems
Do they make us immortal
Do they make us count
Will we be remembered
Mama
I will pass on
our creations
to my children
to my grandchildren
it is sustenance
it is poetry...
2010 Rozanna Landavazo
I see you have begun to sort your pile of words. Lucky for us, sustenance.
ReplyDeleteThank you Michael for reading my poetry.
ReplyDeleteEs absolutamente hermoso cómo de las cosas pequeñas como los frijoles y cotidianas como que una mamá los limpie surja la poesía de una niña, de una mujer poeta.
ReplyDeleteLa fotografía es un excelente complemento, esa mano impecable, los frijoles feos separados de los buenos.
Recibe un cariñoso abrazo.
Maria's Comment translated:
ReplyDeleteIt is absolutely beautiful how of the small things as the beans and daily as that a mom cleans them there arises the poetry of a girl, of a woman poet.
The photography is an excellent complement, this impeccable hand, the ugly beans separated from the good ones.
It receives an affectionate hug
I LOVE this poem! You are SO clever. You truly have a gift. Thanks for sharing it with us.
ReplyDeleteOH MY. I can't even imagine myself writing something like this. Absolutely amazing. Barb
ReplyDelete