blur

the sun is shining
and the windows are open
and i am up early
making pierogies

i think about tradition
and the millions of women
who have stood at a sink
or a stove or a counter
smiling and singing
in a warm ray of sunshine
as they filled small houses
with smells of love

i am crying
(all these onions)
and i don’t need
to do all this work
this chopping
this repetitive
standing-up
oh-my-back labor

we could have had
scalloped or mashed
or baked, but

the sun is shining
and the windows are open
and i am up early
making pierogies

feeling blessed

and the voices
of those women
(those ghosts)
who came before me
are singing right along
in a harmony
of light

.

.

.

 


2 Responses to “blur”

  • grapeling Says:

    my grandmother, Polish, made gawumpkies. in one of the few visits she made west from her home in Philly (before, aged, she finally moved toward the setting sun) I remember standing in the kitchen under her direction, handling the cabbage and filling.

    mine sort of fell apart 🙂

    this is a wonderful history you’ve woven ~

  • Steve King Says:

    Mrs. M.
    This is an outstanding narrative. The reader can picture you, and all those others, doing exactly what you describe. I’m sure the others in the household were grateful for you spending your early morning that way!

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