How you would like to believe in tenderness, In mothers that don’t shield nightmares behind their skirts In the gaping despair of a silenced moon. I have lived here too. Stones and effigies cannot keep our place, We are warm blood and bone Racked with doubt, not holiness.
The yew tree is bent and broken. She cannot stand alone. If hope was a seed, I would plant it softly in your mind And wish for harvests, Warm, terrestrial, piercing and free. We would believe in tenderness.
Sarah Deckro
Sarah Deckro is a writer, teacher, storyteller and photographer. She received a bachelor’s degree in history from Connecticut College and has studied storytelling at “Jiser el Adam” in the Holy Land, Lesley University and through collaborative work with storyteller and director Alan O’Hare. Sarah’s photography has appeared in the literary and art journals Pidgeonholes and The Esthetic Apostle. Sarah’s poetry has been published by the literary journals Persephone’s Daughters andFrancis House, and has been included in “An Outbreak of Peace,” an anthology by Arachne Press Limited.
