by Emily Wierenga | Apr 27, 2011 | Uncategorized
It’s just a shoe, a pink baby shoe, but it shatters me like glass on the road where I walk, and I can’t go on…can only cradle myself against a tree as I would have cradled my child, the one who bled red from me.There was nothing truer than that child’s... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 26, 2011 | Uncategorized
I’m all mud from falling slope. It’s soil like he was black, in shirt and pants and voice and paper in a church so still even the babies hushed. I remember Friday as we walk on Saturday. The grass and sky all there is, hills of scratchy green and boy in wagon and us... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 22, 2011 | Uncategorized
I’ve left the can open and he’s 16 months and he tips it, white on carpet on wall and there’s so much white I laugh.Soap and water and clean what son has spilled and it’s the one place I can breathe. This easel, this canvas, my church. This place between brush and... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 20, 2011 | Uncategorized
in high school, it was bon jovi and bryan adams and i’d lie on my bed, the scratch of cassette and their throats and the day and then i’d get up and i’d dance, the door stayed shut, mum not letting sisters in for the secular music i played and... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 19, 2011 | Uncategorized
Egg shell shatters, a thousand pieces of white and son plays with blueberries. We’re making scones on a Saturday. He laughs as the purple fruit rolls; flour on his nose. Flour his father-in-law grows, wheat fallen, wheat dead and drug, stripped of stalk where once it...