Saturday, July 16, 2011

Phebe Jane, Clarissa, Rebecca, Allice, Olive, Nancy

My daughter and I walked among the women on the hill, where they rest in the sunshine, hot sunshine buzzing with flying things, rest from their housekeeping, the washing and washing up, the clearing away and folding, the stacking of platters. I took away, when I left, a hundred questions: for which the shameful secret, the secret love; for which the nerves and headaches; for which the murdered child; for which the bottle; for which a sheaf of letters never out of mind; for which the locked box, full of pennies saved toward a leave-taking?

The soil stirs, still warm, under their names.










































Please visit Sepia Saturday

at

15 comments:

  1. Brian MillerJuly 16, 2011 at 4:39 PM

    nice...i grew up by a graveyard used to walk among the names...heck we used to play there as kids...

    ReplyDelete
  2. NancyJuly 16, 2011 at 5:19 PM

    With you, I wonder about the lives of my ancestors who lie below the gravestones. Sometimes we learn a little but it's always such a little compared to a whole life lived. Great photos and post, Leah. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Little NellJuly 16, 2011 at 6:04 PM

    A shiver, a shudder, a thought-provoking post!

    ReplyDelete
  4. SnowbrushJuly 16, 2011 at 6:13 PM

    Your text is more poetry than pose. As for your old photos, like the gravestones, they are reminders of that which no longer exists.

    ReplyDelete
  5. PostcardyJuly 16, 2011 at 9:09 PM

    Those are nice old-fashioned names on the old gravestones.

    ReplyDelete
  6. AnonymousJuly 16, 2011 at 9:29 PM

    Oh dear ...

    ReplyDelete
  7. JimmyJuly 17, 2011 at 3:51 AM

    The dexterity of description goes before you once again Leah. The last line... as near to perfection as it gets.

    Where others, so unseeing, read only at a glimpse, I can taste each feeling as they take control of your pen.

    ReplyDelete
  8. The MistressJuly 17, 2011 at 12:13 PM

    There's always something to discover in a cemetery.

    I'm exploring Mount Royal Cemetery in Montreal next weekend.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Alan BurnettJuly 17, 2011 at 12:35 PM

    Astonishing how images can be so poetic and words can be so visual. Masterful.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Bob ScotneyJuly 17, 2011 at 1:48 PM

    When I read your post the last thing I was expecting was to see gravstones. Now I must check out the local churchyard.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Christine H.July 17, 2011 at 2:45 PM

    Beautifully done!

    ReplyDelete
  12. KristinJuly 17, 2011 at 4:11 PM

    I love to walk among the gravestones and wonder too. Nice post.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Bruno LalibertéJuly 17, 2011 at 7:39 PM

    reading your prose, i suddenly felt warmer, and it is hot enough already here...

    evocative...
    nice.
    more?
    (yeah, i'm a man of a few words...)
    :)~
    HUGZ

    ReplyDelete
  14. Doctor FTSEJuly 18, 2011 at 5:02 AM

    Great writing to compliment your photos.

    ReplyDelete
  15. PatJuly 18, 2011 at 2:22 PM

    Graveyards are so much more comforting than cemeteries but I want to be scattered to the four winds. Later on.

    ReplyDelete