A gift of Poetry

Written by Rose Anne Chabot: (My sister)

Standing beneath the doorframe
On the threshold of the infinite space
In which you kneel,
Hands splayed on the wooden floor
Womb heavy and distended.
A space more powerful
Than the bones and skin
We wander around in,
An in-between space that belongs
To the dying
And the child that slips from you
Umbilical cord for an instant
The blue of cornflowers
Or the sky drowning in the sea
Off some Greek Island.
And I think of all the things
That go unsaid, cannot be said
Yet fill the spaces we leave open
The pauses we wrap ourselves in
As we sip burning coffee
From white styrofoam cups
And distribute Timbits*
Among four pairs of tiny hands,
or lean against a counter
Cramped with envelopes and stickers,
Barbie doll limbs, empty wine bottles
And a discarded apple core
Slowly rusting in the open air.
These pauses which
Like the child bursting from you
Emerge from some in-between space
Its silence filled with things
That come before language
Before the sounds
We push past throats and lips.
Friend, sister.

*Donut holes are called Timbits at Tim Horton's Coffee/Donut shops across Canada