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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4141 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Imprint of the Past Bonnie Hamlet Two trees, branches intertwined, spawned this suckling. Self-exploration begins in the south. Weathered hands of farmers bring hard work to this tapestry of life. They teach me to cultivate, cook and quilt. Fry up some chicken and serve with biscuits and sweet potato pie. Dinner’s done – Put up some peach preserves before the fruit begins to turn. “Daddy, please can I drive the tractor? I promise I’ll pick the butterbeans in the morning.” The days are long and arduous. Another bough reaches across the ocean to a small island on the Irish Sea. Smiling faces wear flaming hair. I sit in a room flanked by books with brittle pages. The woman who bore me watches, like a sparrow guarding her young. A young girl stands on the water’s edge as she watches strangers embark on a new life in America. Her blue eyes reflect the outline of a ship. She ponders when she’ll have a chance to see the big cities, and their sidewalks paved with gold. In America, everyone is free and no one goes to bed hungry. Clutching a burlap sack, she heads off to collect stray pieces of coal for the fire. We have come full circle. Forebears lost long ago have taught me pride in who I am. It has taken more than a century to reach this point. Part of me will not rest for fear of losing what I’ve built. My other half can only dream of what is still to come. |
