Gracenotes
INHERITANCE
I
have inherited my mother's scarves
Autumn
angora, winter wool
crisp
cotton for spring;
silk
for sad days like funerals, whatever the season.
She
felt uncomfortable if there was no scarf.
At
Rodin sculptures in the Burrell, she'd pause
and
loudly tut not
even a scarf around her neck.
When
in town on separate jaunts,
I'd
find her at the midday mass,
spot
her immediately, her scarf
drawn
up over her head, veil-like.
She'd
nod as I joined her for the final hymn,
frown
for a moment at my bare head
then
smile in approval at my covered neck.
I
take my time choosing my scarf, stroking
silver-flecked
blues, warm reds, cool greens
noting
that there are no beige.
It
may be a difficult day ahead
but
no matter. I'm not afraid
to
stick my neck out
wearing
any one of her scarves.
Anne Murray
 |
| Anne Murray reads at the Cornerstone - photo by Morelle Smith |
Jila Peacock translates Hafez and shows her illustrations of his words
Rise
up wine giver and offer the cup
for
love at first so simple is now beset with trouble
even
as sighs rising from the tangle of perfumed curls
suffuse
our hearts with rapture.
Here
am I revelling in the midst of life
when
every moment the camel bells cry out
‘Pack
your goods and chattels!’
Redden
the prayer rug with wine
if
the Magian elder tells you
For
seekers know the map and methods of the Way.
In
night’s black terror amid the fearful waves and whirlpools
How
may those wayfarers of the shore fathom my despair?
My
whole life’s yield is ending in shame through my conceit.
How
long can the mystery we all seek remain hidden?
If
this is the presence you seek Hafez, be bold
Abandon
the world, let it go:
Then
face your heart’s desire.
Translated by Jila Peacock
 |
| Jila Peacock shows her illustrations at the Cornerstone- photo by Mike Knowles |
