Skip to content


May 29, 2015


for my daughter, upon graduation


Today when my daughter and I

go to the river, I remember how

long ago, we walked each morning

through speckled forestlight—

I singing and speaking to her

words she will not remember,

the earth’s secrets before us:

spotted bodies of salamanders,

the globes of mayapples,

the dense secrets

of mud and reeds.


I did not believe

we would ever leave that place,

or those primordial days

that bled endlessly one into the other,

she edging out further and further

from my body, until finally

she stumbled out of that first dream

into the named world.


It was in those woods one morning

as she thrust her tiny hand

into streamflow, released her maple

leaf boat and watched it disappear,

that I first saw a picture of her now—

a crowned woman, saying :

here is the green heart of me,

put it in the current so it can swim.


©Laura Weaver

first published on soul


No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: