Oral Tradition

When I was a kid, grown folks always told the same stories. I’d get impatient sometimes in the middle of the story and try to rush the telling along. I know that story, I’d think. Tell another one. But nothing I said could change the arc of their storytelling.

Now I’m the age of those grown folks. I find myself telling stories, the same stories over and over.

I understand now.

I understand that in the telling and retelling lies magick – bodies rebuilt, home restored. And time unraveled becomes fresh cloth, whole and seamless. 


Oral Tradition


I tell the story of you and me
again. Tell about how I said yes
when I meant to say no. How
my tongue balled into a knot
inside my mouth, ready
for a fight. I admit I threw you
away three times. And you
you refused to go, knew I was
not the mistress of my own
tongue. Fear had me hostage
but you were more than willing
to pay the ransom. Patient man,
you. This lifetime ago just a taste
of what gold there is to come.  
This    our story    a fresh miracle   
on the air every time it’s told.


Curious to see more of my writing?  Visit me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – on Facebook, Twitter, and my website.

If you like tonight’s poem, why not show your love and leave a tip through the link below:

Tip for tonight’s poem

I really liked Brenda’s poem and want her to continue writing great poems.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.