women telling stories

Tell me your stories

 Let us curse, cry then laugh.

 I promise to listen

 I promise to nod and shake my head in all the right places

Let your stories not burn a hole in your heart,

 Or cause you sighs to tear your diaphragm.

Tell me your stories as we sit in the smoky kitchen

 as your  tears mingle with the coughs from the wet wood.

I’ll blow into the fire

 And let you blow your nose

 In your sweater cuff

 And hand you the tin cup of tea.

Tell me your stories while we still got time

 For family is only family as long as we can talk

Tell me you reasons for the decisions

 I’ll imagine I was there

And justly take sides with you.

I promise not to judge

 I promise to tell you I understand

 I promise not to look into your eyes.

 Tell me about your years on sojourn and self search

Tell me of struggles that only you could manage.

 I will tell you my stories too

 I will let you peek inside my heart

 I will curse and laugh in spite

 And let you see my late tears.

Let us talk until the moon comes out

 Let us talk like we are in a bubble

 Let us talk as if no one can hear us

 It will soon be morning, and our

Voices will be mixed with the weaver birds

The donkey and sounds of a village dawn

 Do not be silent

Pass me another splinter.

(When a person tells you a story,

they forget about their missing front tooth,

they forget that accent they’ve been trying to attain.

 When people tell you a story,

it gives you a reason to observe them,

 and see details in their face you don’t see in normal conversation.

 When I started talking, and contributing to conversation, I started to lose my ability to observe, study and listen keenly to people. But I am trying to get it back. Last week I sat as my grandmother and her friend told me stories, some I’ve heard before, some with a new remembered detail)

all pictures google availed ;0)