Thursday, April 25, 2013

First Place Award Melissa Fry Beasley

A Poem Of My Grandmother

Piecing together life
Into amazing squares
Of faith and strength
Catching laughter
Binding tears
Placing them just so
Feather stitching chaos into order
Into your hoop
Go dreams of the people
Memories of family
Nations quilted into glorious hugs and well wishes
Sent across miles
Or just around the corner
Wrapped tightly
Safely shielded from the elements
Harshness of the world
History woven into each block
Every blanket containing a piece of you
Your wisdom
Reminding us who we are
Where we came from
In one of your blankets I saw chickens in a coop
Another contained startstuffs and Heaven
I've seen wedding rings
A trail across Kansas
Even the path of a drunkard
I saw the blanket of Chiefs and
One men wrap up in to see Holy things
There was even one made by your Grandmother so long ago
When she was still little
Love in each stitch
Prayer in every thread
So much magic in each creation of your beautiful hands
I found my Grandmother
Her Grandmothers
Blowing in the breeze
Soaking in the sun
As this blanket was just hanging there.
Pale and Small
She stood pale and small
Against the night sky
Silently watching behind the full skirts of her Grandmother.
She stood observing all the magic and metamorphosis she could dream of.
“The drum is like a heartbeat,
Heartbeat of the people”
She hears Grandmother telling her.
She watches
As the men become eagles
Take flight.
She sees hunters stalking
Carefully looks on
As even the grasses merrily dance.
Her heart thumps excitedly as Grandmother grabs shawl,
Heads into the circle.
Slows and turns saying, “you coming?”
She danced small and pale against the night sky
Making big circles, hand in hand.
Feeling each beat of the drum
Resonating and vibrating deep,
Down into her tiny bones.
She wondered how long a beautiful moment might last.
She wanted to dance right into tomorrow.
Dance right into next week.
Right into forever.

©2013 Melissa Fry Beasley

About the Author Melissa Fry Beasley
Melissa Fry Beasley is a Cherokee Artist, Activist, and Poet from Oklahoma. She is proud to have red dirt running through her veins. She is always so pleased and amazed to learn anyone reads her poems and is humbled when they like what they find there. Her blog is here:

1 comment:

  1. Thank you so much for facilitating such a contest providing poets an opportunity to share their art. Everyone's poems were so good this year. I am honored to have been included in such a great group of talent. Wow!