Christine E. Ray's Blog, page 3
April 15, 2024
Coffee Klatch
In memory of Lieselotte Porter 1925-2018
another empty chair
another empty corner
only resurrection
assured this Easter morn
are my ghosts
who brokers the
introductions? I wonder
as my past collides
into my present
room made at
my grandmother’s
round kitchen table
for one more
they drink Maxwell House
drip
Cremora and cheap
cut glass sugar dish
forgotten on the
worn flannel-backed
vinyl tablecloth
colors faded, surface
cracked with age
most of my dead
drink their coffee black
does she pull out the
bottle of cheap vodka
she carries in her purse
offer it the others?
Tell us about yourself
they ask
she talks about
her childhood
young adulthood
in 1930s Germany
her Jewish friends
and neighbors
who disappeared in the night
never to be seen again
mandatory service
in Hitler’s Youth
Kristallnacht
her brother who died young
in the war
they listen respectfully
over mismatched mugs
and cigarettes
serve her a cannoli
recommend the sfogliatelle
as endless after unfolds
© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
April 11, 2024
April 10, 2024
Loss is an Ocean
I stand on the shore
of an ocean named Loss
where my eyes are always
drawn to the horizon
scanning encroaching fog
for the outlines
of those I have loved
of those I have lost
how many empty shapes
have been etched on my soul
like shadow
like negatives of photographs
from those who have been torn away
from this world
from my life
by the raging tides?
eulogies
written in my blood
on the golden sands
in calligraphy
words
memories
caging my heart
like delicate silver filigree
I am called to the sea
to sing their names
one by one
to the dawn tide
ancient shanties
of the women who have waited
women who know loss
like an element
a mineral
mixed in the marrow of their bones
I will sing steady and pure
refresh their memories
recall their meaning
for the rising sun
the fading moon
letting nothing be forgotten
© 2017 Revised 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
April 9, 2024
What We’re Told Not To Talk About
we liked you better
when you were a girl
with your mouth muzzled shut
by strong adult hands
seen but not heard
on your scabbed bony knees
easily rendered
docile
compliant
we liked you better
when you were young
held the shared secrets close
carried the blame
our blame
as if it were your own
eyes cast down
head hung in shame
feeling unclean
unheard
defeated
we liked you better
before something within you
started to wake
to stir
and you began clearing the debris
painstakingly from your throat
with bare hands, knuckles bloody
looking up from the floor
to meet our gaze
simmering with mute rage
challenging our authority
our integrity
we liked you better
before you embraced your power
oiled the rust from your voice
with burning truth
rose slowly to your feet
to stand nose to nose
as you spoke at last
no longer tethered by shackles
we arrogantly thought
would hold you fast
a woman
defiant
empowered
her own
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
April 5, 2024
April 4, 2024
April 3, 2024
Lockets
i wear my losses
on a chain
‘round my neck
copper
silver
gold
charms
containing locks
of stranded memory
tied with red ribbon
sometimes they are
featherweight
sometimes they weigh
the world
sharp edges prick
at my tender skin
i have carved regret
deep in the palms
of my hands
heather
oak
bittersweet
smoky
from the hearth
where I kneel prostrate
praying to silent gods
for second chances
i am not sure
that i have earned
rough stone floors
abrading chilled knees
punishing me
for my sins
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
April 2, 2024
Shrill: Notes From A Loud Woman
you call me shrill
loud
bitch
whenever I interrupt
whatever VERY important thing
you must be saying
to speak my truth
your tone patronizingly implying
that my voice is so shrill
it could break mirrors
etch glass
whenever I am audacious enough
to steal the floor from you
to speak
but why settle for merely etching glass
when I could engrave metal
chisel granite
write my truth onto the very stars?
maybe I am a shrill
loud bitch
. . . but that doesn’t make me wrong
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
March 31, 2024
Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me
so many nights
did I gaze
at the stars
wondering
if you stood
on a distant shore
looking up
wistfully
thinking of me
pondering
whether our skies
were the same
I could almost imagine
us side by side
your sure hand
pointing out constellations
patiently for me
Orion
Cassiopeia
Ursa Major
Papa-
if you had been there
on that windswept
Cape Cod beach
would you have ruffled
my hair
smiled with pride
affection
and promised me
the moon?
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
