Sunday 6 March 2011

In My Mother's Hands

In Her Mother's Hands by Shawn St Jean
My mother holds
the steering wheel
as though it were a shield
as though she were in battle
flashing bangles
'stead of steel.

A diamond glints,
hard stone
on soft skin.

My mother's hands,

- Shaista, 2011
inspired by Gigi at The Magpie's Fancy and the fact that today, 6th of March, begins a week of global events, celebrating women. Perhaps you could find a Women for Women International event near you? It's called Join Me on the Bridge, and this year celebrates the 100th anniversary of Women's Day :)


Gigi Thibodeau said...

Oh, Shaista, this is just the poem to kick off such a special and important week. Thanks for linking back to my place, and for being an inspiration.

xo Gigi

Sherry Blue Sky said...

A beautiful poem, Shaista. And I so love the photo - so beautiful!

Anonymous said...

Great poem. Thanks so much for sharing it with all of us.

mermaid gallery said...

Your mother sounds like a very strong woman....much like you....

Sarath Unnithan said...

flashing bangles
'stead of steel ~

very sweetly expressed :)

Teri said...

What a wonderful poem and what a wonderful photo! Nothing like the innocence of a small child; so trusting, so helpless, so loving. I am interested in what you wrote about over at Maggie's Secret Garden: the listening sangha...could you elaborate or send me some info about it? Thanks!

Jo said...

Oh, Shaista, you are so talented. Beautiful...!

I absolutely love your masthead picture. Look at the expression on the elephant's face. Omigoodness!

* said...

Love this poem, I know how your mom drives (I've been in the car with her!!). :) Hugs & kisses to your mum!

Looking forward to an inspiring week!

Tess Kincaid said...

This made me giggle. Mine used to hold the steering wheel stiff and defensively. Yes, like going to battle!

Ruth said...

The strength of women indeed. My mother's hands . . .

Sarah Laurence said...

Beautiful photo and your poem is really good. A late Happy Women’s Day!

On the post below - how cool to be on the radio and invited back!

erin said...

Wonderful juxtaposition of softness and hardness. A mother's hands are a wonderful paradox. And to think, they are made without the asking, but rather through the simple passing of babe from womb. (Although even that is not so simple. More drugs, please.)

When my children were born, so too was born a new part of me.

A beautiful write, Shaista. Glad your mother holds you so.


Oya's Daughter said...

I have no gift of poetry at all, so I'm always impressed with your skill and mastery of verse and words.

I just sent some artwork to a new literary magazine for poets and artists. I was so chuffed to hear back from them that they'd like to see more of my work, and I was just thinking "Oh, I know the PERFECT poet to feature in the first edition!" So, if you've the energy and inclination, .


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