At the turn Of the pendulum’s swing by Renata Reich Moise (To Eva), T he dream of your being, how it was when you walked upright, who you were, and are now, all like gauze and fog, white cool vapor from the snow fields. I long for those days of impossible keeping on, of the last touch of your paper dry hands and shoulders, skin stretched parchment over bone. How do I write about you, woman of motherness, rooms filled with every piece of interest, of sustenance, of silk or velvet scraps for my creation? Of explosion, passion, thunderstorm, to my still deer, calm and watching, behind the willows or near the forest edge? And when I feel this way, you write back to me, across 23 years, in your beautiful gliding hand, blue pen across yellowed unlined sheet. 9 April 1985 - Sitting at 7:30 am at kitchen table, with snowflakes falling (by Eva Reich) Oh Lord… I studied till midnight Grinding facts into my overloaded brain Or even getting up again After a few hours sleep I pushed my body Even though it was spring outside I sacrificed: being young And dancing around a Maypole I persisted for years Driving toward a goal My medical degree To be a doctor To be a doctor on an expedition had been “known to me” since five… I was the first to stay in Medical school After a marriage I had Cried when admitted to an all women school Those were grim years, gray with war news I washed dishes for my meals and Lived in an expensive six dollar a week room Eva and Canoe, late 1980s energy & character vol.37 may 2009 11
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