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December 15, 2012 17 Comments

Fragile

This morning,
I cradled empty eggshells
in the palm of my hand
where they rested:
smooth
fragile
broken.

I touched one of the points
of their jagged edges
and then
lay them gently
on a soft
white
kitchen
towel.

Midwinter sun
filtered through clouds—
through windowpanes streaked by rain—
shed muted light
on silent mourning.

* * * * *

Image and poem by Ann Kroeker

Filed Under: life Tagged With: eggshell, eggshells, poem

Comments

  1. Julie says

    December 15, 2012 at 3:09 pm

    Eggshells — a graphic reminder of how fragile we all are.

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 7:49 pm

      Julie, yes, you feel it with me.

      Reply
  2. Kimberly says

    December 15, 2012 at 3:42 pm

    Mourning with you, Ann.

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 7:48 pm

      Across the miles, even across an ocean, we are tied and tangled together by the shock….

      Reply
  3. Linda Bannister says

    December 15, 2012 at 3:46 pm

    Simply beautiful Ann. So evocative of our complex feelings today.

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 7:47 pm

      Linda, thank you. I remembered L.L. Barkat writing in response to the tragedy in Japan…she turned to poetry when prose struggled. http://www.thehighcalling.org/culture/japan-and-our-children-love

      Reply
  4. Megan Willome says

    December 15, 2012 at 5:16 pm

    A poem, Ann! And a good one.

    P.S. You crack eggs like I do.

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 7:44 pm

      Do you remember this post L.L. Barkat wrote for The High Calling? http://www.thehighcalling.org/9918/do-the-job-your-way

      Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 7:44 pm

      (And thank you…after being told other things about my poetry, this is a welcome affirmation)

      Reply
  5. L.L. Barkat says

    December 15, 2012 at 7:58 pm

    I love this poem. Its empty places, structurally, echo the emptiness of the stark language, which echoes the the meaning of the words themselves.

    Write more poetry, Ann? Please? 🙂

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 8:17 pm

      I’m a bit shy, you know. I need people like you to model and inspire it, and to point out what works (like you just did).

      Reply
  6. Janis@Open My Ears Lord says

    December 15, 2012 at 8:25 pm

    Beautiful, Ann. Very poignant.

    Janis

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 8:30 pm

      Thank you for joining me here, in this quiet space.

      Reply
  7. laura says

    December 15, 2012 at 9:13 pm

    Beautiful, Ann. Finding myself empty of words and grateful for yours.

    Reply
  8. Hazel Moon says

    December 15, 2012 at 10:11 pm

    Our lives are but a vapor – so fragil!

    Loved this one!

    Reply
    • annkroeker says

      December 15, 2012 at 10:21 pm

      James 4:14. Hazel, I gasp to realize I just read that two days ago.

      Reply
  9. annkroeker says

    December 15, 2012 at 10:44 pm

    I think I like this poem in present tense better:

    This morning,
    I cradle empty eggshells
    in the palm of my hand
    where they rest:
    smooth
    fragile
    broken.

    I touch one of the points
    of their jagged edges
    and then
    lay them gently
    on a soft
    white
    kitchen
    towel.

    Midwinter sun
    filtered through clouds—
    through windowpanes streaked by rain—
    sheds muted light
    on silent mourning.

    Reply

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