Crowstep
poetry journal
Homeland
Here the land is so wild
commandos train on it.
Even the village drunks
speak a language older
than English, a music
the Saxons never trusted.
My grandfather’s watch sings
an altered time in my pocket,
a counting as old as the mountain
I clamber to crawl up.
Something in my blood catches
on the twisting corners.
Slowly, I know how
this flinty trail ends.
My name seems familiar
to the stones, the gulls.
Claim they’ve known me for years.
My hands reach for the wind
as though it were a harp.
I remember this fever
has a name: hiraeth,
a gentle cancer that feeds
in the heart’s four rooms.
I descend. A clutch of voices
swim up from Capel Seion
seeking, as for centuries,
the shifting doors of heaven.
I know the words. I sing.
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Under Story
My father kept moving:
hands, arms, legs.
Cooked, planted, tended.
Drafted.WWII Horse Cavalry.
He stalked Nazis across Italian mountains
and inside German villages.
Marched miles into combat.
His motto: protect your feet.
Wear good socks and sturdy shoes
Well-fitting. Low rise. Practical.
Smooth leather with saddle soap
and mink oil. Use polish.
The scent of his shoe brush
sits in my cupboard like
a soldier in reserve.
My mother weathered her own trauma.
Shopped to ease her orphan emptiness.
Nicknacks. Themed towels with sailboats.
Tablecloths to hide her secrets. Water damaged
cherry wood dining table.
Many moves later, her collection
drained and dispersed.
One thing I kept. Her
colorful narrow striped socks.
Slipped them on to walk the dog.
Thin and insubstantial
they slid down into boots.
Bunched up at the bottom
exposing bare ankles to freezing winds.
Anger rode up my legs and out my mouth.
Startled the dog with harsh words not meant for her.
Home again, I strip off her socks and toss them.
Now the caretaking is over, grief rides
a different cavalry.
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Catherine Reid Day’s story-based coaching method is published in the Journal of Individual Psychology. She’s adapting her method into a workbook titled The Urgency of Who You Are. Her poems appeared in Willows Wept Review, Highly Sensitive Refuge, and the Park Bugle. Poems arrive for her while walking the dog or gardening.
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