Golden Lotuses
Mother spoke
of my future beauty
as if she were speaking
of her beloved
plum blossoms
that would fragrant
our rooms come
spring.
I walked long
distances,
my life like my gait
forever
changed,
all but my big
toes bent
backwards,
my arches
broken.
Some toes blackened,
a few breaking off
like buds lost
to cold
but beauty partners
with pain
the way
water and light
on a lotus pond
are wedded.
Every few days
my feet were re-wrapped,
--forced
into ever smaller
and smaller
new moon
shapes
till my pair
of silk slippers,
my feet golden lotuses,
could be held
together
in Mother’s
palm.
Today plum blossoms
perfume my hair—
my eyebrows
shaped like butterfly
wings—
but it's my feet
I count on to break
a man's
heart.
Demurely they wait
like arranged
brides.
Golden Lotuses
Re: Golden Lotuses
Great poem, Bob, beautiful, tragic, no preaching, powerful in its subdued, accepting tone.
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Re: Golden Lotuses
Thank you, Billy. Your comments always mean a lot to me.
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- Joined: 23 Jan 2022, 15:37
Re: Golden Lotuses
I did read this a couple of times. The last stanza says it all.
I second the nom.
I second the nom.