days of stone

Tag: mother

  • She-Wolf

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

  • The Magpie’s Warning

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    Her songdraws a line in the air—a black note on blue,sharp as her eyesand just as clear. The dog halts.The wind shifts.Even the treeslean back a little. She’s not angry.Just sure.This stretch of fence,this slice of sky,the nest wedgedin that forked branch—all of it matters. She’s known loss.You can hear itin the edge of her…

  • She Carries the Ocean in Her Spine

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    She never saidwhat it cost to hold the world. Just straightened her backwhen it sagged,tightened the threadwhen it frayed,made dinnereven when her hands shook. Her spine—a tide chart.Each vertebramarked by wavesshe never let break. You wouldn’t know itto look at her—how many stormsshe swallowed. How many timesshe floodedand heldanyway. Some call it strength.But strength is…

  • The Way They Run to Her

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    Ryan Stone
    in

    It’s not a question,just instinct.A scraped knee,a bad dream,the kind of achethey can’t name yet. They run to herlike rivers find the sea.Like they always knew the way. She doesn’t brace.Just opensarms, voice,that face that saysI’ve got you. There’s magic in it.Not the wand-waving kind,but the kind that knowswhich night light to leave on,how to…

  • Mother’s Hands

    Mother’s Hands

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    Advertisement for Myers Gloves, by Margaret Watkins (Canada), 1920s. Mother’s Hands Strong enough to lift me each time I couldn’t rise. Soft as cotton wool, washing dirt from scrapes and tears from eyes. Firm enough to model clay and boys, to bowls and men, yet fine when stroking ivory keys– Für Elise and Clair de…

  • The Walk

    The Walk

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    I wake a full hour early for the rare gift of a walk in the woods with my father. He is a silent giant among misty ghost gums. I tell him, Watch! See how fast I can run. He doesn’t yell when I trip and fall, but lifts me with unfamiliar, calloused hands. At the…

  • Mother & Son

    Mother & Son

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in , ,

    He faces the world Armed with a rose and a shield His mother’s blessing Ryan Stone For C&J

  • Drinking the Dawn

    Drinking the Dawn

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    A young elephant can die of a broken heart should his mother leave. I was an elephant once just for a time. Then I stood up, tusk and trunk, like she taught me – stepped onto the prairie; dry eyes drinking the dawn. Ryan Stone