Daila Dārzniece #poetry #poem

I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leafPaul Dunbar, The Paradox

Young at heart, though old in body
sound in mind, though oftentimes insane
in my dreaming, bound by dreams which set me free
back to the beginning, bent like a young birch tree
over the water, on the pivot of a dive
nature’s daughter, mother of five
I was always your Old Grandma
yet you ever imagined me as I felt in myself
the young and pretty gardener
boys lined up behind
my father’s sweetshop
longing for a taste
of my sweet secrets
dancing on a piano-top
from the confines of my wheelchair
spinning round the dancefloor
at the wedding of my granddaughter
fearing to die but
dying to be free again.

© Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved

Written for dVerse

Laura is hosting Poetics, and has asked us to write a poem about a paradox. She has given us a choice of existing poems from which to begin our poetic examination of the stated paradox. I chose the lines from Paul Dunbar without reading his poem first as I didn’t want it to influence my writing. I just went where my thoughts took me, and it turned out to be a poem about my late Grandma, who was Latvian. When she was a teenager, the local boys nicknamed her ‘daila dārzniece’ – the pretty gardener. I chose a photo of a yellow rose as this was her favourite flower.

48 thoughts on “Daila Dārzniece #poetry #poem

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  1. such a pleasure to read Ingrid and you have woven the paradox throughout in this tender understanding of your Grandma – the finale is brilliant:
    “dancing on a piano-top
    from the confines of my wheelchair
    spinning round the dancefloor
    at the wedding of my granddaughter
    fearing to die but
    dying to be free again.”
    p.s. isn’t the epithet ‘the pretty gardener’ so lovely

    1. Thank you so much Laura. One day I would love to write a book about her with that same title! One of her favorite anecdotes was about the time she dances on a piano 😊

  2. This is such a breathtakingly poignant poem, Ingrid! I can feel the love you harbor for her 💝 especially moved by; “dancing on a piano-top from the confines of my wheelchair spinning round the dance floor at the wedding of my granddaughter fearing to die but dying to be free again.” Sigh.

  3. So beautiful, poignant, and a tad tragic, imo, near the end. The freedom of our memories, of what once, that is something to look back at in fondness and with solemnity. I can feel the love in this poem especially as we are taken to the perspective of someone who we may see now in the wheelchair was once just like us: vibrant and care-free. It is hard to see behind the mask, and then you engender the paradox itself: The confines of age and the freedom in death to reach back at the start, a new life, a new beginning.

    When the years go by, our youth is more left behind and all we have left is our spirit and memories. You entwine these themes and topics beautifully, Ingrid. Such masterful work.

    1. Thank you Lucy for this wonderful and insightful comment. She used to tell such stories of her youth that it was easy to imagine her as a young woman! These are the changes we all go through if we live long enough.

  4. I thought this was about your grandma Ingrid! I love her nick name ‘daila dārzniece’ and I can imagaine her spinning in the wheel chair on the dance floor and it brings a smile to my face knowing you have that beautiful memory and a poem to remember her by so freely and joyfully! 💖

  5. The Dunbar quote fits your grandmother perfectly, Ingrid, and what a beautiful tribute to her. I love that you have written in her voice and the way she describes herself in these lines:
    ‘in my dreaming, bound by dreams which set me free
    back to the beginning, bent like a young birch tree
    over the water, on the pivot of a dive’
    and the poignant paradox of
    ‘fearing to die but
    dying to be free again.’

  6. I’ve had the same thoughts about both my grandmothers, and my mother too–I know too well that our minds hold those young women in parallel with our bodies that have grown old. I often wondered about the dreams they still held of their youth. (K)

      1. I think that’s true of one of my grandmothers also. It was hard to tell with my mother. She had Alzheimers and before that she always seemed depressed. Yet in photos as a young woman she did not look that way. I always hoped she had some happy times.

  7. Simply lovely, Ingrid, your spinning of paradoxes out of the reality of old age which liberates even as it confines! What a pleasure to read.

  8. Late to the reading 🙁
    OH how I LOVE this! I think your grandmother must have been quite a woman! I think I want to be just like here when I get into my 80s or 90s….a way to go yet (73 now) but let’s me know there’s a lot of joy in the living as we age 🙂

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