A legacy of words

As I said yesterday, I'm putting together a special gift for my mom. I thought a collection of writing by the members of our family, simply bound in a booklet, might be something that she would appreciate. So, I've been digging around in the basement boxes, through old letters and documents and photos and finding some unexpected treasures.

At first the book was going to be a female thing… but I know now it's got to include the male writers in our family as well. And today's blog is me sharing a couple of gems with you.

The first poem is by my maternal grandmother… written in 1927. I have the original tattered piece of purple paper with her poem written in what appears to be fountain pen. Wow. Here it is,

How

The weary ones had rest,
The sad had joy that day,
and wondered ‘how’
A plowman singing at his work
had prayed
‘Lord, help them now.’

Away in foreign lands they
wondered how
Their simple word had power
at home the Christians two
and three had met,
To pray an hour.

Yes we are always wond’ring
wond’ring ‘how’
Because we do not see
Someone, unknown perhaps
and far away
On Bended Knee.

Chrissie Robinson
1927

The second poem is by my younger brother, Joel Clements.

Memoir

We walked through the fields,
saw lines
where the plough had been,
and followed the furrows
as they snaked behind the hill.

We listened to the wind
and heard
how it tickles dry leaves,
and tells of crickets
in the cat-tails.

We eagerly inhaled the country
into our city lungs,
tasting summer
in the dust
of the dry August heat.

We breathed the air,
filled with fragrance.
It brought fading thoughts
of our childhood
not long passed.

Chasing kittens
in the musty darkness
of the loft,
among sweet scents
of fresh cut hay.

Now we chase our dreams…


Why does it always surprise me when I see predestination in things… that there might be a pattern or a plan to my life and the choices I make, still has a way of catching my breath and stopping me up short. My search in the basement revealed poetry, letters, books and a love of words in past and present generations in my family. My daughter is also a wordy girl… why is that such a surprise to me?

Anyway, today I'm just resting in this place of knowing that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing and the 'writing on the wall' is more obvious than ever before.

Lesley-Anne