Juleigh Howard-Hobson
To Amber, Who Died Young
And when we stop to think of you
We find you now so far behind--
We did not know how much we'd mind
The space that marks times old and new.
The space that marks you dead and gone,
We didn't know it never ends,
We didn't plan on other friends
Filling in where we went on.
Where we went on, and you did not.
We have changed so much since then.
It all has changed so much since when
You died. It seems we all forgot
That life moves on, and people leave
Old times to fade and fall away,
No matter what they used to say,
No matter what we all believe.
Nerthus to the White Christ
(regarding the loaves and fishes thing)
You've really swayed the crowds with this--
You up-start vegetation god.
There was a time they'd call it odd
That any born of earth, of clod,
Should try to claim their souls as his.
There was a time--a while ago--
You were, in their minds and hearts,
Some foreign god, designed for parts
When winter ends and spring time starts--
But now, they don't consign you so.
For, now, you've got the masses where
Once I ruled in caves and woods--
Where once my statues proudly stood,
There's only you these days. You should
Be happy, and you should beware.
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Therese Chabot creates delicate, ephemeral installations – carpets, dresses and crowns – using flower petals and natural materials to speak of the stages of life and the paths we are given to choose from. |
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