Bio Note: Fatima was written in a quiet time in the world, speaking to my own personal needs for healing, taking those to the shrine at Fatima. Now, I offer it here as away for many to heal from all the grief we are under due to Covid and the other tragedies of 2020. False Grapes speaks to September harvest—in this case a false one—something that appears to be offering a gift but is not—and we must find our own way to slake our thirst.
Against darkness— of loss of grief we lit a candle for her brother, my son. We breathed in the subtle sweetness of beeswax around us. Our candle's flame sent a small orb of hope into a shadowy corner of the shrine. I smiled.
Originally published in The Lake, UK, 2017
When we first drove up the winding drive of our new home, and spotted dangling bunches of purple along the fence, I entertained visions of stomping grapes, of bottling the rich red juice after fermented and drinking it in crystal glasses on the patio overlooking that same pasture fenceline. I soon realized not even a small harvest would be won from this snaking line of purple Wisteria dangling indolently from the fence along the drive and property lines. Over the years, I’ve come to value their beauty, that they bloom requiring no effort on my part, their show of color mine to enjoy as I sit on my patio sipping grocery store wine.
©2020 Joan Leotta
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