Photo by Ingrid Mathews


I cried one solitary teardrop
Like a cloud
It gathered all my hopes and fears
In unshed tears
And delicate as it was
It carried the weight of the world
And as it traced it’s way
My face became the story
It scrolled my cheek with songs
Of victory
Regrets
And Joyous memory
I caught it carefully
And cradled it within my hands
I sought my visage
In the rainbow bands
And then the tear transformed
Into a crystal ball
Revealing days ahead
And past
Daughters
Mothers
Grandmothers
Greats
All the similar triumphs
All the same mistakes
We were an army in a prism orb
I knew my mission then
I held the future of my children
Of us all
Within this tear
I walked my offering to the sea
My salt of sorrow
My vigilance of tomorrow
I slipped our teardrop
To his care
And prayed
Arms wide
He caught us on a rising tide!




Sara Mathews     January 2017

Photography by Ingrid Mathews

What’s the Phoebe doing here
In coldest cold
And barest bones of year
A sentinel on skeleton of
Boughs that crack the brittle air
And where’s his little mate
He calls for so beseechingly
Has he remained to look for her
Phoe-be
The depth of winter swallowing his plea
Phoe-be
Phoe-be
His two note song deep frozen there
Wrapped in winter’s will
No other music to be heard
But one lone bird
We wait together
He and I
Though all in vain
No answer comes
No sweet reply
No love to keep him warm
And Spring too far away




Sara Mathews     January 2017

It’s as though it means something
This gentle snow
The wide eyed flakes
So quiet in descent
Gaining ground
Gathering soundless
Heartbeats
Like separate letters falling
The lacy thoughts collecting
Sifting memories
Softly
Softly
They pound like hooves
Upon the stillness




Sara Mathews     January 2017

The sun shouldered his way through the crowds
Quite forcefully
As though he were bringing me an urgent message
And hot as a brand he shone upon my mind
My morning
Transforming my ideas
Clearing hazy introspection
Be aware
Be aware
And then as quickly he was gone
Drifting back under throng of deliberate cloud
But it was enough
An almost personal appearance
A calling from aloft
To make something of this day





Sara Mathews     December 2016

This is my morning
My grey beginning
My heavy shawl of rain
My teardrops etching sadness
Down the pane
My heartbreak
Weighing heavy on the leaves
My birds in quiet kinship
As we grieve




Sara Mathews     November 2016

I take joy
In the little things
Swirling cream to my coffee
Sharing toast with the cat
The roof deck where the grape vines wither
And cling to the unpicked fruit
Spicy with frost
The sun just skimming the rooftops
Tracing a last path of summer 'cross my face
I take joy in a deep full breath
Of autumn
The sharp smell of leaves wet on the walk
Their last hurrah
The crabapple silhouettes
Lingering in the concrete
A sweet cider scent
Still perceptible
I take joy in my comrades
The squirrels anxious with errands
And the echo of the crow
Out of sight
But vibrating the cold uncluttered sky
And filling my ears with a message
To take joy

Sara Mathews     November 2016

My window on the world
Shows me yesterday
Although
I’m sure it is today
Yesterday’s news still flutters
Down the street
Yesterday’s blues
Still puddle ‘neath the rose
The birds are on a loop
Repeat
Repeat
The clouds remain
Their shape the same
The sun is in repose
Yesterday knocks
Well meaning
From the West
I draw the blinds
And choose
Today



Sara Mathews      November 2016