by Emily Wierenga | Sep 3, 2011 | Uncategorized
he holds me, tells me he’s sorry and he smells of chalk and speed stick. and i think, ‘he shouldn’t be sorry. he did nothing wrong.’ i’d pulled potatoes from ground and carrots from stem and aiden and i, we’d made footprints in the... by Emily Wierenga | Aug 31, 2011 | Uncategorized
he suggested i take a walk. he saw it in my eyes, this need for a walk, and he suggested i put feet to gravel while he took the kids in the car and we’d meet at oma’s. and so i did, waving as they passed and the sky a blue cardigan on old-lady earth, her... by Emily Wierenga | Aug 30, 2011 | Uncategorized
i am one year in this dutch town and the sunflowers are seeding, all orange and yellow like pumpkin loaf and the geese are calling, a haunted sound and i flap my arms and pretend to fly. i cut the stems of these flowering suns and i bring them inside, i bring autumn... by Emily Wierenga | Aug 29, 2011 | Uncategorized
He laughs and around us, mountains, the kind you can run to and we run together, a family of odd-sorts: Mum in her new floral shirt and Dad in his “holiday” blue jeans and my brother with his Blackberry, his two kids in bed and Allison, the piano player and we stare... by Emily Wierenga | Aug 27, 2011 | Uncategorized
we ponder these things like mary did, in a coffeeshop stacked high with spines the color of crayons and we drink decaf and she talks of prayer. of the way it happens when night folds with gown against baby’s cheek. of the way “God holds me as i hold my...