Cool wet grass
leading down the hill
to the river.
Rice in the meadow,
like paintings behind the mist.
into blind eyes seep,
at least when shades of gray disappear in sleep.
like memories of running, climbing,
and Mama who calls...
rice and daal for dinner!"
All the rest
were washed away
till trickling streams
of reds, golds, and blues
falling into fever's flames
and lost forever.
thinking I was lost, too,
trickling away with the colors.
But I came back to shades of gray
and memories of green
that still remain.
terri reinhart - fall 2012
I wrote this poem for Sita, who became blind at age 5 after having Typhoid fever. Sita's daughter, Ishwori, is the subject of my short prose/poetry biography, Ishwori. When I began writing this story, I found it very difficult to write in prose. This poem is what got me started and helped me to find the proper storytelling voice for Ishwori.
The profits from online sales go to help support Ishwori and her young cousin in Nepal. Through the end of May, you can get a 25% discount on the paperback edition when you order directly from Createspace. This is our way of thanking everyone for their support.
"Ishwori is a story of trials and challenges, of light and darkness, of love and perseverance - a story that needs to be told - a story that needs to be heard!" Susan Perrow www.healingthroughstories.com
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