Shards of Gingersnaps | Original Poetry
Like a thousand boomerangs,
shards of gingersnaps —
treats our mothers used to bake —
hurtled through the window past
our families carving turkeys,
shattering the glass
of Thanksgiving warmth.
Before, or after,
the glass shattered,
our mothers stopped
baking gingersnaps.
Like a thousand boomerangs,
shards of gingersnaps —
treats our mothers used to bake —
fell from distant galaxies
of what-if and
what-could-have-been,
and propelled our families
astray, each one going
his own way.
Did our mothers stop
baking gingersnaps,
or did the glass shatter
first?
In our milky memories
we retain nothing
but bloodstains
from scooping up
shards of gingersnaps
and shards of glass
in our bare hands,
wond’ring if tears
are inane.
Image Source: Jennifer Pallian, Unsplash
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Whoa, this is quite unsettling. From the comfort of ginger snaps in our youths, from the safety of our mothers' circle of warmth, our little world explodes, we spread, many of us no longer even speak to each other, and we do not know when the little solid world fell apart. I like this poem a lot.
@owasco thanks for the kind words <3
Was feeling low when these words came tumbling out. It's a tragedy when the family disintegrates.
I'm in the middle of the same thing. It has been more of a slow disintegration since my mother had a stroke 20 years ago. She kept us civil to each other by advocating for all of us. For us, it was more like a spoke broke on a wheel, it never got fixed, and eventually the wagon just spilled us all out. Then there's the alcohol.
I hope your family can repair some.
Not crazy about ginger snaps, however well they are baked.
Nice poetry about family life, our favourites were shortbread and oatmeal crunchy biscuits.
Try dipping them in coffee! That's how I became a convert. Yummy!
Try dipping them in
Coffee! That's how I became
A convert. Yummy!
- owasco
I'm a bot. I detect haiku.
Thanks Joan ((:
Shortbread is another of my faves! 💕
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