This house filled with children

a love letter/parable poem to all who are inspired to write.

                                                      This House filled with Children 

                                                                               By

                                                             Carlos Lorenzo Estrada 

     She was God in her tenderness.  She tended her garden as if a gardener to Eden.  Each movement of defined purpose to the life that grew around her.  It was ritual; it was sacrament in the holy place of nature.  We are at our greatest virtue when tending to our children.  The roses bloomed their brightest at her touch, and the soil was richer in texture and nurture.  And she spoke to the world around her.  The words had life and a vivacity of youth from the curved wrinkles of her old lips.  They were water. And the breath was pure and hallowed from within.  Like heaven. Her stories spoke to me.

   

  I was young, a mere child with unlearned understanding of the world I was growing into.  I did not know of love, or hate, pride or shame.  Only later in maturation would these concepts hold a more prevalence in my life.  I clung to her skirt as if it were a sacred robe.  Walked as she walked, and smiled when she smiled.  I heard God laugh at my silliness, and eyes wide in wonder.  And she continued to tell her stories with parables that were elusive to me.  From a house filled with children.

  

  Stories and poems are like children to us.  We create them by giving them voice through the words. We define them by giving them purpose and reason within the body of the texts.  A part of us exists within their written lines whether large or slight.  And we send them out into the world in hopes they find a home of their own within the hearts of those who take the time to experience them.  As parents of these messages we take joy that a small piece of us will change the life of others inspiring love, hope, humor, the weird, the tragic, and thoughtful grace to be better human beings.  As a storyteller I love all my children and I am grateful, and honored to share them with the world.   As God shared them with me, with a voice that sang in a garden.

Reviews

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

Wow what an adorable grandmother, I love people who tend to gardens with care and love and you depicted that so awesomely I delighted in reading of her green fingers.
I also liked the sacred robe line and the world of little children and stories that grandmas are so helpful with. Kudos!!

Plz do read and comment my newest poem too, right on top of my page.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

thank you so much for the kind review. Where would the world be without grandmothers and women in general. I have to say God is probably nodding right now, because she agrees with that comment. There are such divine qualities in womanhood with their innate abilities to create. Because in their power to give life it is done with such a profound power of love behind it. It gives those things its colors. My grandmother often wove the most wise and kind tales into my mind. It's not a mistake that I clung to her skirt the way I often did. It was perhaps a metaphor like an apostle to the robes of Jesus. Thank you again for your review and I will definitely give your poem a look and comment as well my friend.

[Chris Shaw]

You were blessed having a Grandmother who was so inspirational to you. I lived with my maternal Grandmother for the first eight years of my life and she taught me so much. There was no garden, only a back yard with arches and railway lines. However inside her modest home, she taught me about books, nursery rhymes, knitting, sewing, embroidery, crochet. Skills that I have today, because of her patience. She made dolls furniture from matchboxes and knitted outfits for my dolls. She left me a wonderful legacy of memories and knowing I was precious to her.

I hope my poems will be read by my grandchildren. I guess each one I write I do put special thought too. Much in the same way I tend my garden which is a joy to me. Yes,, my poems are my babies too :))

Thank you for a wonderful read Carlos.
A delight to learn more about the influence your Grandmother has woven into your life. And thank you for allowing me to share my Grandmother Eva with you.

Chris

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you so much for sharing your memories of your grandmother and the gifts she gave to you. As long as our work is read and shared with others I believe that both remarkable women will continue to live through our tales and poems. Your grandmother truly sounded like an amazing spirit. Thank you so much, Chris, for sharing your memories as well as the kind words of my work. I always find it a joy to read the kind comments and have a nice conversation with other artists. They inspire me.

[Lydia Shutter]

Indeed, Carlos, we live between the lines of our poems. We nurture the words...or perhaps they nurture us. With the words we hope to inspire. I think we also hope to leave a legacy. Beautifully written. Lydi**

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you for stopping by and reviewing this tale. This is one of my more personal stories because what I was describing was a time I would spend with my grandmother who raised me mostly as a child. She had this beautiful garden that she would tend to every morning and I would be there watching her. She would always be talking to the flowers in half Spanish and English words. Talking to them as if they were actually people and tell them stories. And I found myself drawn into her world listening to the stories, too young to understand but feeling the words because they were told in such an emotive manner. The stories were like children that lived in her mind born into the world before a garden that to me reflected a sense of Eden. Because so much wonder was created there by her voice and the hands that tended the garden around her. She was God to me and always shall be. Thank you so much for taking the time to read a piece of us.