by Catherine Rockwood
‘whatever human hands take up with love is holy.’
I want to believe that. And in part I do.
Seferis was fleeing his dangerous country then
looking, as he fled,
for chapels, lanterns, hallows,
help.
Sometimes he found it
and saw, in objects, endurance:
their ornamental or simply finished thing-ness a product
of days of work that looked toward years of use.
Who hasn’t felt their heart unclench
for prodigal beautiful craft, in a hard time?
A quiet blue pot can lift as a bird’s flight lifts.
Our gaze reawakens to what could be other than this.
::
Catherine Rockwood lives near Boston. She reads and edits for Reckoning Magazine, and parents — with help, and to the best of her ability — for dear life. Two chapbooks of Catherine’s poetry are available from The Ethel Zine Press. If curious, you can find more of their work at www.catherinerockwood.com/about.
Image: Oliver Augustijn
ID: a blue ceramic tea pot.
Psaltery & Lyre 