This image is called Juggling It’s part of my Green Girl images done in collaboration with poet Mary Jo Amani for her book Green Girl Weaving. It goes with the following poem:
The Sorrows of Mary
Green girl carries a match wherever she goes
and a flint, for circumstances.
On the curve in the path, standing under a Eucalyptus tree,
she sees me wearing the neon sign
that says my son died. I wear it
so my heart won’t tumble into every conversation,
warns the soft underbellies of kind strangers.
I stumble with the sign,
it’s too heavy and too bright,
but no one’s looking.
“I have three children,”
I say to no one
and to everyone. “No,
I have two, I mean,
I had three and now I have two,
or is it three?
And I lose things.”
“Am I not here?” says green girl,
standing alongside me, so near.
I look up into the boughs of the tree,
see my child stuffing his mouth
with its sweet putrid fruit.
Green girl strikes a match
and the branches swirl with leaves of gold, red,
then turn gray, like rain. As my child falls,
I catch him, the child
with frayed paper for skin;
my memories burnish—
silvery shards of stardust on the earth.
What inspired me were the lines where Mary is trying to explain her new relationship with the world after loosing her son. It can be difficult to know how to explain change to others while also honoring reality. For me, it was trying to explain that my children were shared and not always mine. It’s simple and complicated at the same time.
The card will come with the poem it is based on printed on the back, and will be blank inside waiting for your message.
To purchase Green Girl Weaving visit: https://maryjoamani.com/
To view other available images:
This image is called Juggling It’s part of my Green Girl images done in collaboration with poet Mary Jo Amani for her book Green Girl Weaving. It goes with the following poem:
The Sorrows of Mary
Green girl carries a match wherever she goes
and a flint, for circumstances.
On the curve in the path, standing under a Eucalyptus tree,
she sees me wearing the neon sign
that says my son died. I wear it
so my heart won’t tumble into every conversation,
warns the soft underbellies of kind strangers.
I stumble with the sign,
it’s too heavy and too bright,
but no one’s looking.
“I have three children,”
I say to no one
and to everyone. “No,
I have two, I mean,
I had three and now I have two,
or is it three?
And I lose things.”
“Am I not here?” says green girl,
standing alongside me, so near.
I look up into the boughs of the tree,
see my child stuffing his mouth
with its sweet putrid fruit.
Green girl strikes a match
and the branches swirl with leaves of gold, red,
then turn gray, like rain. As my child falls,
I catch him, the child
with frayed paper for skin;
my memories burnish—
silvery shards of stardust on the earth.
What inspired me were the lines where Mary is trying to explain her new relationship with the world after loosing her son. It can be difficult to know how to explain change to others while also honoring reality. For me, it was trying to explain that my children were shared and not always mine. It’s simple and complicated at the same time.
The card will come with the poem it is based on printed on the back, and will be blank inside waiting for your message.
To purchase Green Girl Weaving visit: https://maryjoamani.com/
To view other available images:
