The Cord

The Cord

for Ella

They cut the cord she was born with
and buried it under a tree
in the heart of the Great Forest
when she was exactly the length
of her mother’s nursing elbow
to the tip of her thumb.

She learned to speak and asked them,
though she was young yet,
what the cord had looked like –
had a princess spun it
from a golden spinning wheel?
Could the cord be silver? Was it real?

Real enough and hidden
in the roots of an ancient oak,
the tangled knot of a riddle
or the weird ribbon of a gift
in a poke. As she grew, she asked again
if the cord was made of rope,

then stared from the house she lived in
across the fields to the woods
where rooks spread their pages of wings
like black unreadable books
and the wind in the grass
scribbled sentences wherever she looked.

So she went on foot to the forest
and pressed her ear to the ground,
but not a sound or a movement,
not a breath or a word
gave her a hint where she should go
to hunt for her cord. She went deeper

into the forest, following a bird
which disappeared, a waving hand; shadows
blurred into one huge darkness,
but the stars were her mother’s eyes
and the screech of an owl in the tree above
was the sound of a baby’s cry.
Carol Ann Duffy (from Collected Poems pub. Picador 2015)

This poem by Carol Ann Duffy is written for her daugher, Ella. The bond between mother and child is precious and in this poem we see that it cannot be severed. The mother watches over and looks out for her growing child into adulthood years. Duffy uses myth and fairytale as she tells this story – Great Forest, ancient oak, princess, spun from a golden spinning wheel. Was it silver was it real? In the last stanza we find the adventure moving out into the world waving perhaps a goodbye, but always a mother’s eyes, like stars for ancient travelrs, watching over the onward journey. I found this poem beautiful, I hope you do too. Remember, pause and ponder and if possible offer a prayer, remember you don’t need words!

Prayer:
Holy God, in the gospel
we read “You are the salt
of the world” Today let us give thanks to those
who are the salt of the world: the
woman whose baking feeds more families than her own;
the old man whose warm face delights the children as
they pass him in his garden, the teenager who
knows just when to do a daft thing and defuse tension;
and all those who are wise enough to help us see the
bigger picture. Today I cherish their savour as I try
not to lose touch with my own.
Each day and night,
each shadow and light,
each moment in kindness,
grace me with your Spirit. Amen.