The Day of Saints - Day 35, Nonna Revisited (revised 23.11.19)

When I wrote about Nonna's story on Day 26, despite having worked and worked at it, I was very unsatisfied when I looked back at the result. Consequently, to avoid being totally crass, I have removed the original verses and rewritten the poem entirely. The introductory commentary I have left there on Day 26. Here is the new piece.

For Nonna

Tending

[Scarring]

This night, it came to seize my stock,

And gave no thought that I would grieve,

The savagery that forced the lock,

Once sated, quickly turned to leave,

A fissured wasteland, void in shock,

Disfigured down to the very rock.

Pathetic thoughts of hours ago,

Before that rake of soiled hands

Made rough to burrow seeds below

By ploughing up those virgin lands,

I’m harrowed more than sight can show,

And more a desert than you know.

--------

[Waiting]

Days go, and come again around,

And sometimes dare us find an ark,

Still salted I am stony ground

With things that grow up in the dark,

Within such pain can life be found,

If nowhere else my cries resound?

--------

[Crying]

Go gently with this soil, untrace,

The stain, remove, do what seems fit,

But claim again the spoiled place,

And lose no ground surrounding it -

Is there new earth for me, a grace

That Eden's downfall might replace?

Faith ever hurts as time recedes,

And stronger, as at night I groan,

To raise a bed devoid of weeds,

Contend with me, leave not alone,

Pray water hope with love that feeds,

A promise grown from healed seeds,

--------

[Tending]

This day, I sense my land more free,

from fear of trespass, blood and sting,

and once more can bear company,

I am regrafted, flowering,

Still yet in hope that I may see,

As tender bedrock, family.

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(final revision, 23.11.19)