Poetry Friday

Ellen Bass writes so deftly of human fragility.

We are neither on the eve nor the other side of a daughter's a wedding here, but still ... I can feel the stuff of this poem down to my bones.


After Our Daughter's Wedding
by Ellen Bass

While the remnants of cake
and half-empty champagne glasses
lay on the lawn like sunbathers lingering
in the slanting light, we left the house guests
and drove to Antonelli's pond.
On a log by the bank I sat in my flowered dress and cried.
A lone fisherman drifted by, casting his ribbon of light.
"Do you feel like you've given her away?" you asked.
But no, it was that she made it
to here, that she didn't...

...And that long gestation—
like carrying your soul out in front of you.
All those years of feeding
and watching. The vulnerable hollow
at the back of the neck. Never knowing...

(Read the whole poem here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

The round up is here, at Random Noodling.