Old Feelings

18 Replies

Old Feelings

Our prairie  town  stood
in an unending stretch of South Dakota plain
that rolled on for as far
as any eye could see
with not one tree.

Here I dreamed
in the crouched shade of rabbit nests
and killdeer flight,
in the shade of the feigned broken wings of mother birds,
in the shade of tractor blades and haystacks.

This was where  I  would sunburn  and sand stick and deer fly scratch.
Where the ticks waited for me on the wood of the thickets.
Where no dangerous animals lurked
since the gray wolves were ghosts
and the brown bears memories.

Here the Sioux were sequestered in the bars and the reservations.
The horses were safe behind fences,
the cattle wore the tattoos of their owners,
and  feral  cats  were the only descendants left
in the decaying houses  of the homesteaders
of half a century before.

The  floorboards of my Grandmother’s  homestead
sagged  to the dry dirt,
and the roof and timbers
fell  to blanket them.

The ribs of  plows  rusted
in the spring  rainstorms.
Prairie fires burned away  rust
and  snow peeled away ashes
to the muscle of iron
which it picked at like scabs—
iron to rust to ashes to iron to rust.

Kicking the hard clods with my feet,
I knew that under me were arrowheads
and flint strikers
and white stone buttons
in the shape of thunderbirds—
All the rich Indian treasures
buried under the soil
to be turned up some day  by the plow of my dad .

Curled up into the furthest corner of the couch,
I listened to the stories traded between my dad and his friends.
Tales of gray wolves
and children lost in snowstorms,
Indian wanderers and recluse homesteaders
to be lifted out of my dad
like he lifted the Indian relics from the soft soil.

And I feel a part of the prairie dogs and the wild kittens,
the rabbits and the killdeer in their nests.
I feel both threatened and protected by the land––
like a child given asylum under the shadow of trees.
Like myself sheltered in the arms of  the child  I’ve grown from.
That child who, wanting to grow up and feel  less,
Comforts its  grownup self,  who wants the feeling back.

For dVerse Poets Open Link Night.

18 thoughts on “Old Feelings”

    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      For years, my town has had a reunion every 5 years. I have attended most of them and I think they are due for another in 1927. For the past three reunions, there has been someone from my small class of 18 who has passed away. We are dwindling down…Only my sister Patti and I are left from our family and we usually both go.

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  2. Unknown's avatarAnn Garcia

    awesome

    one of the best poems about this place and its people that I have ever read.

    atmosphere!

    Symbolism!

    clear and rich imagery … ann

    Liked by 2 people

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    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      Ann, wish I had been able to sit in on one of your lessons when you were teaching. I’m sure you were a great and supportive teacher…You have certainly been supportive of my efforts! xo

      Is this because you moved a lot, Ibeth?

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  4. Lisa or Li's avatarmsjadeli

    Judy this is a fine piece of writing. Those last few lines shine new light on the relationship between myself and my child. You also made me think of that discussion we had way back when, about Truman Capote’s book.

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    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      At age 76, I still sometimes have an overwhelming feeling of being grateful that I am an adult and able to make my own decisions…it is the strangest feeling. I look around and am amazed that I have created this house and these gardens and this life and I wonder how I did it. I wish I could show it to the little girl who wondered how she would ever make it in this world. When I write I feel like I am somehow messaging and comforting her.

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