Sacred Things - by Alice Pero

SACRED THINGS


As a child I revered the floor
the smell of my grandmother's living room rug
the bright red planks in the kitchen of the summer house
the smooth wood of the parquet in the
in an Upper West Side Manhattan apartment
Visiting the city sent me into a strange ecstasy
narrow corridor streets and buildings that knew
how to block out the sun
the smell of bus exhaust, exotic, like the whiff
of my father's pipe on the night before Christmas
Back home I had the rail fence in the neighbor's yard
where I could barefoot the top rail in precarious balance
Seed pods from the maple branches above whirled
through the air like green fairies, landing willfully on my shoulders,
challenging me to catch them and stick them
on my nose, a sacrilegious act I never atoned for
Under my favorite tree was a mound of grass
so soft I found it easy to commune
with my own personal gods:
kings and princesses, queens and their servants,
who appeared at my command,
this ritual as comforting as any church service
When I wished, I could climb to the very top of the tree
and look down on the world
knowing all things were good
all things were sacred
as long as I made them so

© 2008 Alice Pero All Rights Reserved.
www.alicepero.com www.moondaypoetry.com

Category:

Entertainment

Tags:

• Sacred
• Things
• Alice
• Pero
• poetry