This piece was re-worked from an earlier version for the Six Sentence challenge, with the prompt word ‘presence’.
Who knows how long this will last
but whatever each generation brings,
there will be totems of the past
fixed firmly insistent in each of our minds,
totems with faces carved in the hard woods
that only family trees produce
and set, sometimes poles apart, in the family grove.
Children growing themselves in new numbers each year,
all named and loved and parented in common for a day
with tear-filled eyes, chocolate-coated faces and grinning cheeks,
each hoisted to embrace and admiration,
all feats applauded and all false pride mocked.
Food, prepared as sanctioned by time,
in unspoken, ordained ritual by the women,
the bearers of all sustaining life
while men, surrounded by seemingly unobservant boys,
use beer to shorten stretching distances,
quietly competing every hurdle
until a child clings to a leg
and wins.
Lives past, sitting patiently in reserved and sacred chairs,
coming back to life in anecdotes of bastardry and joy,
as toddlers and crawlers, excited and bewildered,
sit knee-deep in wrapping paper,
while babes at breast, absorb every nuance
through the pores of their clan skin
and the memories encoded in their motherโs milk.
The married-ins and new lovers,
belonging in their separateness to this caravan,
as hopeful as those that followed a certain star,
come bearing gifts,
as the matriarch,
with skills both ancient and subtle,
draws to her these strands unknitted,
so they ever unravel
and pull the fabric apart.
These are our totems,
their presence taking firmer shape with each year,
and living beyond presents shared,
ensuring that in all our futures
we will have at least one day
not alone.
That one day a year… Good Six!
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Thanks, Chris
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Very good… I like the unravel line
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Thanks, UP
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Nice line: “Food, prepared as sanctioned by time,”
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Many thanks, Frank
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Wow.
This is amazing!
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Many thanks, Liz. Glad you enjoyed it.
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The babes absorb it as they always have, it becomes part of the fabric of their being, so early they don’t even realize it. You have caught what the mere word “family” implies but cannot define fully.
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Many thanks, Mimi, for your lovely observation. Cheers, Doug
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“…with skills both ancient and subtle,
draws to her these strands unknitted,”
Like a mural with words!
cool
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Thanks, clark, Glad you enjoyed it.
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Captivating Six, Doug. Very much an oral tradition story only written out…. that’s how I “hear” the words ๐
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Thanks, Denise. It could certainly be seen in that way, although I was not consciously trying to write in that style. Cheers, Doug
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How many or if we have babies can determine generations into the future whether that one day a year will be spent alone. WIll great uncle Bill be surrounded by a new bunch of babies and toddlers on Xmas Day?
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We don’t, Janet, but what I was attempting to describe was a family culture that is doing its best to ensure that Great Uncle Bill has that possibility to look forward to, in the same way that we plant trees for the next generation in the hope that they don’t chop them down for the next freeway or highrise. ๐
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Superb, Doug. Bravo. This was packed with potent sentiments and visuals. I got teary thinking of the old and gone members of my family while reading this, but not so much sad, more happy thoughts ๐ I read it again with dryer eyes, but got teary again lol. Really powerful words, sir!
Ford
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Thank you so much, Ford. No family gathering is complete at our place without the sayings of our departed oldies getting bandied about in our happy sadness. Cheers, Doug
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Good to hear that, Doug. It’s the same here.
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As an exile who doesn’t do Xmas I found this intriguing.
But expertly crafted nonetheless.
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Thanks, ceayr. Not a great fan myself and we rarely bother these days but for some it’s their once a year lifeline to what once was.
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