“Snap-beans in a Wooden Bowl”

On By Mike U.In Poetry

(originally published at Masticadores Philippines, 3/23/2024)

“Snap-beans in a Wooden Bowl”
(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

snap-beans
in a wooden bowl
and tears
on her cheeks
my mother’s sorrow
exorcised by
the rite of
working hands
the ritual of
silent contemplation
as evening sun
gilded her world
in holy ephemera
her safe place
ensconced
in her own
sacred light
her garden
her universe

the weeds she hoed
during languid summer days
of sun-burned neck
and aching back
how many belonged to her
how many the memories
of fear and violence
in desperate need of
eradication
her rough ancient hoe
her crucifix
against
my father’s rage
her blisters
turned to calluses
turned to armor
her fingers bent
with age and arthritis
yet strong enough
to hold herself
together
day by day
to contain
the tears the anger the horror

corn silk
her hair was corn silk
as she merged with
row upon row
of papery whispering stalks
her naked feet
rooting into earth
deeply
deeply
where her spirit lived
safe in cool moist soil
a fertile loam
a secret energy
regenerating her
scarred soul daily
only to be
shattered nightly
the cycle of the seasons
her heart always
an autumn heart
forever offering harvest
to all, then burned
to the ground
without a thought
as my father’s
winter approached

I passed her one evening
as she sat snapping beans
in a wooden bowl
her bare feet beagle-draped
farm cats lurking amid
squash blossoms
the westering sun
haloing her tired face
and she gazed at
the distant horizon
staring at the empty world
a faraway smile
nearly touching her eyes
as a tear fell
among broken beans
in her lap
and she looked at me then
and her smile was terrible
an anguish
I’d never seen before
and I knew
that she knew
there was nothing
either of us could do

29 thoughts on ““Snap-beans in a Wooden Bowl””

  1. rajkkhoja's avatar rajkkhoja

    What a nice words use in poem.I passed her one eveningas she sat snapping beansin a wooden bowlher bare feet beagle-drapedfarm cats lurking amidsquash blossoms.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thanks, dear friend. My mother loved her garden, and the dogs and cats loved to play in the garden while my mom watered the vegetables. Good memories. 😊

      Hope you’re doing well and enjoying your week! 😊🙏

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  2. Oh, impressive! Your poem speaks volumes, Mike. The pain is palpable in this beautifully crafted melancholic piece. It’s challenging to read it without feeling a lump forming in one’s throat. You’re a true wordsmith, and a soul who feels deeply. These lines gave me chills, “her heart always
    an autumn heart
    forever offering harvest
    to all, then burned
    to the ground
    without a thought
    as my father’s
    winter approached”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thanks a bunch, Aaysid. Truly glad to know this one found favor with you. I wanted to portray my mom in her element–her garden, surrounded by her crops and her farm dogs and cats–yet also show her vulnerability and her anguish. Her life was hard, and it shouldn’t have been. She should have been honored and loved and protected by my dad, but she wasn’t. She’s at peace now, and my dad is gone and can no longer hurt anyone. And so the memories remain with me and my sisters, and I must write about this now and then to deal with them and to hopefully honor my mom.

      I always appreciate your kindness and your insights, my friend. A sincere thanks for stopping by to read and say hello.  😊

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

    1. Thank you so much, Xenia. My mom was a wonderful, light-filled person who deserved so much better. I wanted to share a little about her in this poem, which was my contribution to the #whattheydontsee project sponsored by editor Michelle Ayon Navajas at Masticadores Philippines, along with fellow writer Nigel Byng and graphic artist Vanessa Melecio. The project was aimed at giving a voice to folks so they can share their hidden pain, fear and sorrow in a safe place through the written word. I hope my mom would be proud of this poem.

      Thanks as always for your kindness, my friend. I appreciate you so much. 😊🙏

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

  5. The reception this received when I read it to some colleagues was amazing. I also shared it with the peeps back home, and so many women can relate. It led to discussions about generational curses, the subjugation of women, the role of women in society.. eventually I was just an observer to the discussions. This poem, like many others on the prompt has been giving voice to many women who have been suffering in silence. Well written Mikey, and it’s also a great tribute to the strength and persevering will to many of the women in your life. 🙏🙏

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

    1. Thanks, Nigel. I was so glad to be able to contribute something to this project. I wanted to share my mom with the world, to show not only her anguish and vulnerability, but her strength, too. She deserved so much better in life. Everyone who suffers abuse deserves better. It’s made me wonder just how prevalent the evil of domestic abuse is in my own family tree because, as you know, most people don’t talk about this stuff out of shame and fear. I know my dad’s father was a vicious, violent drunk, but that doesn’t excuse my dad’s choices to abuse my mom. He knew what he was doing every single time. Speaking the truth loudly and clearly can hopefully break the cycle of abuse at some point. And when our voices don’t work, we need advocates who can step in and make it stop. My mom didn’t have that luxury. 

      Thanks for sharing this poem with folks back home. That means a lot to me. Perhaps my mom’s experience can help others avoid a similar fate. That’s my hope.  😊🙏

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

      1. It was my pleasure to share it Mikey. I’ve been an advocate for a long time since I became an adult working in security industry many moons ago. So many women I know personally who paid the ultimate sacrifice because they didn’t have the help to get out of a terrible situation. Some of the images have stayed with me.
        I even have a childhood friend facing the death penalty for the most heinous of acts against a former spouse.
        If I can save even one person by writing poetry that gives them a voice, I feel like I have served a purpose.
        Not speaking up is a stain on our conscience as men. At least that’s how I feel. There are some who believe it is the God given authority to own their partners. 🥺

        Liked by 2 people

    2. I agree with you–guys need to stand up against domestic violence. I did my best as a kid to protect my mom. I left a scar on my dad’s forehead with my belt buckle while breaking up one of his attacks on my mom when I was ten years old. He wore that scar for the rest of his life, and he absolutely hated me for that. A kid can only do so much, and now, at age sixty, I’m still trying to fix the damage done in my own life by my dad’s violence against my mom. It never ends. 

      I applaud your efforts as an advocate, Nigel. Thank you for doing the right thing and setting such a fine example for other guys to follow. We need more guys like you in this world.

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

      1. You’re welcome Mikey. I laughed out loud when I read you marked the old man with your belt buckle 😜 oh man, he must have been waiting to get you back for that. 😂
        Brother…I try my best. So much abuse happens in secret, and we never know until someone speaks up. Then the careful, delicate process of intervention begins. My sis lived through many horrors before she managed to get out with the help of friends, and even then, there were still many years of prolonged harassment. It’s tough.
        Proud you stood up for you mum, dude. It would have sent a message to him even at that age. 💪💪

        Liked by 2 people

  6. Oh my gosh. This wrecked me. You took me along to places I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, broke me open, and yanked out my heart. So powerful and beautiful. God bless you and God bless your mother. What a gift.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Thanks so much, my friend. It was a tough one to write, recalling my mom’s heart-rending anguish and her fear and helplessness. No one should have to endure domestic violence. Its collateral damage affects everyone in the family, and those scars last a lifetime. I appreciate your kindness and your warm sentiments. Thanks for stopping to by read and comment. I appreciate it so much. 😊🙏

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

    1. Many thanks, Selma. I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. Here’s sending you some peace and comfort for a speedy recovery. And yes, I’d be honored if you decide to reblog this poem. Thanks for your kindness, my friend. 😊

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

    1. Thanks a bunch, Lauren. Your compassion is boundless, my friend. I wanted to post it here on my blog so all my poems are in one place, and to perhaps give others a chance to read it who missed it at Masticadores Philippines. Thanks for your sensitive and warm appraisal. I’m truly grateful for your presence here. 😊

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

  11. Gotta get that garden ready, soon Mike. I look forward to it. It’s nice to see the strength of the women that care and prosper us into adulthood and our lives. Even when gone, the nurture and nourish through dry eyes and hidden tears never quite leaves. My own role in the realm of Advocacy, notably Domestic Violence highly encouraged me to start sharing my own story of survivalism and hope turned to remedy. It gets better with time 😊😊 honesty, open truth, and hands held in solidarity are what causes me to rejoice and relish in a new day everyday, no matter how dismal the story has gotten. Life is nimble and I am not feeble, so I persist. Thank you for sharing the strength of women. More men must come forward and understand where we come from is not weakness, just the strength of solidarity of what it is to grow and heal. Very nice, Mike 🫶🏼☺️🤙🏼

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

Leave a comment