DEBORAH DIGGES ~

    

    So Light You Were

I Would Have Carried You

So light you were

I would have carried you,

hacked from the ice

a bridge,

you in my arms,

from February into April.

And crossed

above the snow

banked narrowing

the streets, this winter's

tired citizens, the erlking

and his foundling crossing.

Light as you were

I would have carried you

from the room

of your death back

to our room,

climbed back,

crawled up the stairs

to our bed.

From February into

April, hid in your arms

in the woods

frantic please.

Light as we were.

And could be carried out

on a float of last year's

leaves

and bracken thaw

rinsing the tide pools.

So light you were.

I would have carried you

from February

into April.

___________________________

Deborah Digges

Trapeze

Knopf, 2004

EARTH ~

DEBORAH DIGGES

write a book a year



Well the wild ride into the earth was thrilling,

really, scared as I was and torn and sore.

I say what other women could have managed it?

My life before then

picking flowers against my destiny

what glance, what meeting,

who was watching, what we don't know we know,

the hour we chose and we are chosen.

And suddenly the dead my mission,

the dark my mission.

He'd find me pounding out the hours.

Spring is for women, spring clawing at our hearts.

We are pulled forward by our hair

to be anointed in the barren garden.

I want the dark back, the bloody well of it,

my face before the fire,

or lie alone on the cold stone and find a way

to sleep awhile, wake clear and wander.



The Wind Blows Through My Heart (Knopf)

(1950-2009)