person Suzanne Edison, one poem

Suzanne Edison is the author of The Moth Eaten World, published by Finishing Line Press. Some of her poems can be found in: Persimmon Tree: About Place Journal: Rewilding issue; Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine; JAMA; SWWIM; What Rough Beast; Bombay Gin; The Naugatuck River Review; The Ekphrastic Review; and in the anthologies: Face to Face: Women Writers on Faith, Mysticism and Awakening, ed. Joy Harjo & Brenda Peterson; & The Healing Art of Writing, Volume One. She lives in Seattle with her family and two cats under an ever-changing sky.

~ ~ ~

Sick Girl in the Wilderness

My mother’s evergreen face,
the one she puts on
before entering my room,
is the only God I know.

Let me be enraptured
in her fan-shaped branches,
let them cool my braised skin,
its geysering heat.

Let her outlast the black bear
eating me with its singular purpose,
as if I’m dug up grubs
burrowed in a crumbling log.

I dream she’s a novice
shaman chanting incantations,
conjuring the vials of pills
to exorcise my illness.

Let her be a snowy cloak,
and I, an ermine in winter
disappearing into her
calm and bright.

Dear Lord, let me be a whiteout.
Even now when hope muddles
the air, wringing me
with its exhausting tune,

let mother be the solace
of fog in the sequoias, and shroud
my addled body. Let her
make for me a place:

a cornucopia of quiet and space,
fissured with light, to hold me
like a red-capped mushroom in duff,
as I dream, like spores, of letting go.

~ ~ ~

4 thoughts on “person Suzanne Edison, one poem

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