I read poetry all year long. My custom is to publish one of my poems in honor of Poetry Month. This year I am posting a story about sea glass.
When my daughter and family moved to Connecticut, I became intrigued with sea glass and brought a few pieces home with me. Then I read about sea glass as well as the history of the manufacture and uses of glass. I began to wonder why more women weren't included in the history and stories about sea glass. Last year, on the morning of my birthday, my daughter ran on the beach and came upon a few pieces of sea glass. She sent some of them to me.
Many strands come together in a poem: ideas, sounds and rhythm in words, metaphor, and story. I love poetry for the economy of carefully selected words that tell a story. Somewhere in a book or article about writing poetry, I read that asking a question in a poem wasn't the best practice. So, not to be deterred by one opinion, I set out to do so. The poem below is part of a small collection I call, "Voice."
Season of Sea Glass *
White egret fishes in the marsh,
stands among spirits rocked by the sea.
Sea glass pounded by waves,
washes up on the shore.
Who held this piece molded
from sand, soda, and lime?
This shard tossed in the tide
for days and years, years and days.
Who dispensed medicine, dipped feather
in dark ink, placed rose in the slender neck?
Shard of her story, tumbled
by waves, reduced to one triangle.
A voice worn to the softest
color of an opaque soul.
* Copyright, Jane A. Wolfe, 2021