An inky blue night, Grandmother
moon is full and bright, the small
girl sways and the river
rages. Little doll clutched tight,
a call to come home,
so back she runs through the green
forest floor, and through the green
forest floor runs the doll her mother
gave her. Back they go, home
to an empty house. Small
shadows as company, little doll
sings the lullaby of the river.
Sunrise, the small girl runs down to the river
to see if the anger has passed. Green
leaves float happily downstream but little doll
whispers the water still rages. Grandmother moon
shrinks with age and the small
girl peers into the water. The only home
she knows is grief, and so home
she walks into the open arms of the river.
The leaf sinks and the water sings and the small
song carries her downstream through greens
and blues. The water's kiss, a mother's
embrace, no anger at all. A girl and her doll
dance through the water, a doll
and her girl dance their way home.
They swim down, and down, to where Mother
sings from the bottom of the river,
hair wild and free, belly green
and soft. She smiles at herself:
no longer small but tall
and grown. She bows to the doll,
button-eyed guide, weaves fresh green
weeds into a braid: a gift for the long journey home.
The doll takes it with pride as the river
child sleeps on the breast of her mother.
Chloe is a 21-year-old poet and playwright from London. She has had plays produced at the OSO Arts Centre, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Theatre 503, Chiswick Playhouse and Theatre Deli. She has performed her poetry at The Poetry Café and RichMix. When not writing she works as a yoga teacher.