Children

Sonya

Sonya walks
Like the bamboo leaf
Holding the water droplet
Until it falls.

Sonya walks
With dancing hands,
Planting each foot
Towards those she loves.

Kevin

Today a tiny seed
Floated on my breath,
Moving as Kevin moved,
Our second son,
Who saw the world
So small and cried,
"A beauty, a beauty!"

[Two poems by Virginia McKinnon Mann, printed on the same page. August, 1995.]

No. 64

The bus driver, Black Mother, waits
For the train to arrive,
The passengers to become her children:
She remembers me, calls out my stop,
"Santa Clara and First,"
Not far from St. James' Park,
Historic San Jose.

She watches me leave and carries
The other children of her run
To their appointed places,
Heavy in her heart
For the daughter who suffers
From surgery, from chemo, from surgery.

Dear Mother of God, how beautiful
You are in the Cathedral of St. Joseph:
What street of this besainted city
Will you name for the Black Mother,
Who cannot save her daughter from pain,
Who drives her bus so kindly,
Speaking gently to the old White Woman,
Who, like herself, cannot save her
Daughter from pain?

[Poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann. May, 1995. Photo of the Virgin of Montserrat via Wikimedia.]

Fear Of Things Falling In

Grandfather was never sure

That the bathtub was meant

To hold so much water:

He stood outside the door

And listened to the stream

Pouring in and

When it did not stop

Called out to visiting Cousin Jim,

"Don't put all that water in;

The floor might give way:

You could fall right through!"

Cousin Jim was slightly hard of

Hearing and let the water freely flow

While Papa fumed outside the door

And cursed the inside lock

And inventions such as bathtubs

While Cousin Jim enjoyed his bath

Not knowing Papa's fear

Of things falling in was deep as the well

And old as sin.

[Poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann; dated January, 1995. This is one of my favorites (along with "The Joy of Poetry Book"), because it is both comical and poignant. I left the line in the last stanza that she crossed out because it heightens that duochrome mood (to mix my metaphors atrociously).]