A LESSON ON UMBRELLAS

A LESSON ON UMBRELLAS

We open memories/like umbrellas, keeping them/until we can’t, when the shielded parts/of us step out and speak. ---From “Mail Pouch” by Hannah Stephenson, The Storialist, 08-03-11

We grew up with grandmother

knowing our umbrella songs,

or we won’t be able to use them

when it rained, thus got drenched,

or when the sun seared our follicles,

got burnt and smelled like dried fish. 

Torrents would get us a paragua

and save the creases on our pants.

Hints of inferno? Get the parasol!

Strut about shaded from a sun

that blazes tree tops, boil brains,

but that’s good only for a little girl. 

Paragua, parasol, rain or shine,

will not make it any different---

memories of a sainted warden

shield us well from almost anything

from aching hearts to broken dreams,

and have grown old to fold umbrellas.

---Albert B. Casuga

08-03-11