Monday, November 20, 2006

Green Rain

I remember long veils of green rain
Feathered like the shawl of my grandmother--
Green from the half-green of the spring trees
Waving in the valley.

I remember the road
Like the one which leads to my grandmother's house,
A warm house, with green carpets,
Geraniums, a trilling canary
And shining horse-hair chairs;
And the silence, full of the rain's falling
Was like my grandmother's parlour
Alive with herself and her voice, rising and falling--
Rain and wind intermingled.

I remember on that day
I was thinking only of my love
And of my love's house.
But now I remember the day
As I remember my grandmother.
I remember the rain as the feathery fringe of her shawl.

Dorothy Livesay

The imagery of the poem is so nice: green, rain, shawl, a warm house...
All these elements are lovely interwoven into a placid, dreamlike picture. I don't know why, but I have no difficulty in identifying with the poet, even though my grandma never wore a shawl or lived in a warm house.

Some people always tend to idealize the people or things they love. I'm definitely one of those.

One thing that I have regretted the most over many years is that, not until her death, I didn't realize how much I loved my grandma or she loved me. But the tragic thing is that the realization only comes in hindsight.

Contemplation begins...

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