This month we’re writing “In the Style Of…” Wallace Stevens’ Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, that perfect prism of perspectives, that beautiful list of looking, that incantation.
The idea, I think, was that each of us would find our own thing to hold a microscope (or telescope) to, that we would also see things in five, or nine, or thirteen ways. Nearly everything is worthy of being paid attention to like that, honestly, so it’s just a matter of choosing something…
But it just so happened that I found myself with my eldest daughter this week, in New York where she lives. And I found myself looking at her, and looking at the world with and through her, as I always do, as I have since she made me a mama. It is a pleasure so pure that I am giddy, a nostalgia so sharp it could make me weep. What a miracle to have this assignment waiting for me…
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Daughter
(After Wallace Stevens’ Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird)
Liz Garton Scanlon
I
The downy head
nestled into the notch
at my neck
was my daughter’s
II
I unfolded, becoming
someone new,
someone unfamiliar,
shaped like who I was
meant to be
III
My daughter held onto
my hair, she reached out
for something beyond me,
something I could not see
IV
We were people
who called
each other
family
V
I wanted
to stop time,
I wanted to hold
every moving moment
like a warm egg in my hand
VI
Each cry
broke crystal,
each laugh
grew wings
VII
Suddenly
she was everywhere
like wind and water,
like all the birds
in a tree pushing off
at the same time
VIII
She was the shape
of the world,
she was the way
we learned to fly
beyond ourselves
IX
Finding her meant following
dropped crumbs and stitches
to see where we’d been,
to see where she’d landed
X
She didn’t belong
to anyone
and she never had
XI
A crowd gathered
around her, leaning in
to love her, parting
to let her through
XII
Listen to that
impossibly singular song
XIII
The woman
stepping off the train,
bag on her shoulder,
small silver bird nestled
into the notch of her neck,
was my daughter,
is still, is always
my daughter
Read the others here:
Tricia
Tanita
Mary Lee
Sara
Kelly
Laura
This is so beautiful I can hardly draw a breath after reading it. Can’t choose a favorite stanza, either….but this one pierces me:
Suddenly
she was everywhere
like wind and water,
like all the birds
in a tree pushing off
at the same time
xoxo
Liz, I am glad that the comment section finally came up on my computer. Your poem is so well written. Having a daughter who now has 3 little daughters is amazing. I am glad that you chose this topic. The following stanza resonated with me because there is something wonderful about having a daughter.
I wanted
to stop time,
I wanted to hold
every moving moment
like a warm egg in my hand
Liz, I love the progression of your poem and how it circles back. Stanzas 5 and 7 were such perfect use of metaphor that I could picture my own daughter in those lines. : )
Thanks Liz for your poem which stops time, pauses us, and shares nourishment, lovely!
So gorgeous!
Each cry
broke crystal,
each laugh
grew wings
Exactly. Thank you!
A crowd gathered
around her, leaning in
to love her, parting
to let her through
Ooooh. Liz, this is so, so lovely. Thank you.
I hope this lifelong love letter has been gifted to her.
Yep, I sent it to her 🙂
from “The downy head nestled” to the “small silver bird”, you’ve shown us a special piece of your heart, Liz. Always and always!
Oh, Liz–this is perfection. I’m in tears.
xoxo
Oh how perfectly this encapsulates the mama-feels “to stop time..to hold every moving moment
like a warm egg in my hand.” Thanks for sharing that journey.
Liz… ❤️🥺
Your poem brought tears to my eyes with thoughts of my own daughter. Hard to pick a favorite stanza, but I do love:
She was the shape
of the world,
she was the way
we learned to fly
beyond ourselves
Oh, my goodness. This poem. This poem from your introduction to the very last word is stunning. I wish I had written this. It is true and true and true all the way through. I love how my adult daughters give me something beyond myself that I didn’t know I could need or would be and you put that into words. I’m going to hold on to this poem for a while. It is sharp and yet peaceful. I love it. I don’t think I could read this aloud without weeping.
aww thank you Linda…
This is beautiful. There is so much here that resonates with me and William, especially stanzas 7 and 8. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, Liz, this is luminous. I love it from beginning to end. I whispered, “Yes!” at this:
I unfolded, becoming
someone new,
someone unfamiliar,
shaped like who I was
meant to be
Truly gorgeous.