Linked by Strands of Pink
Like tree roots stretch, seek each other
beneath the earth, lie dormant, then link
to support the seedlings as they emerge,
when it appears the stump is dead,
smoothed by weather and the years,
its rings grown faint and indecipherable,
our roots lay quiescent in the years
since you’ve been dead, no shoots,
no hint of green, tendrils linked by memory
of laughter, travel to foreign cities,
kittens in the baskets, our fashioning of flowered
sundresses, picnics with martinis in thermos bottles.
Then a link we had dismissed, a link
like an unexpected shoot, composed
of cells and vessels, long underground.
We are linked by strands of pink,
the blood that coursed through
your veins and then through mine.
The doctors say I’m just unlucky—
no reason to think my diagnosis
is related to yours forty years before.
But I know that like I learned from you
to carry yarn beneath my knitting, to hold
the strand waiting to link up with a swan
or heart, waiting, holding on with proper
tension—not too tight, not too loose—
I know we’re linked by strands of pink.
…..
This poem is from the chapbook
Given Time: a mother-daughter cancer memoir by Christine Beck (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/given-time-a-mother-daughter-cancer-memoir-by-christine-beck/
Christine Beck holds an MFA in poetry from Southern Connecticut State University and is the author of three books of poetry — Blinding Light (Grayson Books 2013), I’m Dating Myself, (Dancing Girl Press 2015) and Stirred, Not Shaken (Five Oaks Press 2016). She is a former Poet Laureate of the Town of West Hartford, CT. and former President of The Connecticut Poetry Society, where she created a poetry series called Poets on Poetry.
She has also written Beneath the Steps: A Writing Guide for 12-Step Recovery and leads workshops for writers in recovery.
She publishes a weekly essay about literature and life at christinebeck.substack.com.
Her website is http://www.ChristineBeck.net.
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