A Poem about Memory: The Foremothers
The Foremothers
On the wings of a butterfly,
on a feather’s breath of memory,
their stories,
their spirits resonate.
I see these women, my ancestors,
with their courage, humor, and tenacity.
In my mind I can taste their cooking,
Hear their old world accents,
See their kitchens.
Feel the texture of their lives.
.
A Visual Poem for the Foremothers Project: Wings of Memory: And Still She Rises
This monotype print is entitled Wings of Memory: And Still She Rises. Using imagery from nature–the butterfly, leaf shapes and the swirl of wind, my Foremothers print evokes the way memories float into our consciousness. As we become aware of the influence of our foremothers, our past merges with the present moment. Through the seeds they planted in us, our Foremothers continue to influence our lives. To see the other prints I made for the Foremothers Project, please visit my Foremothers gallery page. https://robinbrooksart.com/figure-collage/
Two of my foremothers: Great Aunt Fannie, and my Nanny, Sarah Brooks.
As young women, Fannie and Sarah became good friends. Fannie told me how Sarah helped her after the birth of her son, my dad’s cousin Manny. It was during the great Depression and times were hard. With no money in her pocket, Sarah bartered with the butcher for a half chicken. With the chicken, she cooked up a pot of hot soup for Fannie, providing her strength and nourishment so she could nurse her baby.
A wonderful poem and connection to your memories…it all brought back memories from my past…especially a great aunt of mine!
Thank you Syd. These memories and connections are real treasures.
Robin. i am pretty sure Grandpa Ben and Aunt Fannie were from Proscurov in Russia- not Ukraine. Nannie and the Schuhalters were from “Galitziana” which back then was in the Ukraine.
Also Aunt Fannie’s porch when she lived in Nj was called “the red porch” bc of her Communist tendencies. She would feed the hippies in the 60’s in the park near her home.
Hi Bonnie,
Memory is a collective project so thank you for adding your thoughts. Ukraine was part of Russia in those days. Proscurov was a village near Kiev, so it was both part of Ukraine and Russia.
I can picture our Aunt Fannie bringing a plate of warm potato knishes out to the young people wearing their torn jeans and flower power shirts in the park.
BTW, Both Galitziana and Proscurov were located in the region of Europe known as “The Pale of Settlement” where our Jewish ancestors migrated and settled after numerous expulsions.
Robin, Beautiful and tender poem… connecting and understanding the strengths of our foremothers and fathers is powerful and something I personally have only truly appreciated in my later years. Glad you sent out that email so I can find your Blog. Always inspiring.
It is wonderful to remember the women in your life, and others’ lives. What a lovely concept this is. Congratulations!
Thank you, Evelyn! I hope you’ll get to see the show at Curtis Library Morrell Meeting Room’s virtual exhibit space.
Robin this work is truly wonderful – visually- conceptually- historically. I loved that RBG inspired your own journey to honor the wonderful women who shaped you. And this poem – these are my favorite lines:
In my mind I can taste their cooking,
Hear their old world accents,
See their kitchens.
Feel the texture of their lives.
Absolutely scrumptious! And it makes me realize that something I treasure that was left to me by my mother are certain recipes we all enjoyed. Thanks for this reminder too!