Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LIBERATION, by WINIFRED GRAY STEWART


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LIBERATION, by                    
First Line: At midnight came a cool wind from the west, after days
Last Line: The shadow of death has passed; now I can plant new seed in a living womb.
Subject(s): Farm Life; Women; Agriculture; Farmers


At midnight came a cool wind from the west, after days
Of breathless heat, of silence bred from smouldering soil,
From brooding stones. She woke, thinking: The drought
At last is broken; somewhere there must be rain. I feel
Its breath in the rustle of the wind whipping the stiff leaves
Of the cannas by his bedroom window. I hear it coming
Across the prairie. Thinking: His land will be fed; his acres
Flourish; and the cattle by the dry troughs drink and fatten.

She slept then, dreaming
Of rain sweeping over her flexed body in tender,
Slow storm rhythms; she felt sweet sky-water swirling
Around the hot shafts of her ankles, rising
Past her aching knees, surrounding
Her tense thighs with coolness and with motion...
Oh, freshness! Oh, freedom!

The rain was her lover, coming quickly, bringing
Release to her wracked body; drenching
The dry, dark land; lifting
This fear of madness; ending
Timeless days and nights of burning torment. Now
Earth's freedom would be hers. She could face
The morning without sickness seizing her vitals, tightening
The hot steel bands about her throat, without terror gripping
Her brain. She could carry the pails of mash out to the barn
For the Jersey yearlings; scatter grain
For the white Leghorns and the black Minorcas; fondle
The new calves; take the young colt's velvet muzzle
Between her palms, thinking: we have not failed you.
Knowing their lives would go on.

Dreaming, she tasted rain; saw
Green blades on the storm-drenched prairie; heard
The lean beasts low; felt the grateful grain drinking.
Her nasturtiums by the back porch would bear blossoms;
The wild pomegranates would hang their fiery lanterns; the fruit
Would not wither before picking.

She woke, and went into his room, stopping
By the window to listen to the message of the wind in the clamorous
Cannas. Thinking: Tomorrow he can turn the cow-peas under: chop cotton.
Next year, terrace the north-west hillside; check erosion; rotate crops.
Thinking: Mary and John, and Jason, his own namesake, shall have new shoes
For school in September; for our lives swing on the shift of the seasons,
On the gifts of rain and sun, beneficently balanced.

He was breathing lightly; he must know,
Even in sleep, that liberation was upon the land. She lay down by him,
And relaxed. He turned to her and slowly wakened. Slowly perceiving,
Taking her with gentleness and deliberation, he gave thanks silently
With deep, firm rhythms of his body, for release for his thirsting acres,
His patient creatures, his own wasted flesh and sick spirit, thinking:
The shadow of death has passed; now I can plant new seed in a living womb.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net