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Her Head Bowed
- The University of Akron Press
- Chapter
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350 A Face to Meet the Faces Her Head Bowed Diana Park Let me show you a familiar scene of snow: a small house alone in a land of covered hills except one slope’s the roof. It’s early, the sky a certain blue. The only light is a naked bulb in the kitchen hanging over a table set with a bowl of soup for a dying mother we can’t see but feel— the way the home’s shadow reaches a woman standing still. Her head bowed, her breath a cold globe directed at the ground. She’s praying for her mother to get well or die soon. We can’t be sure but we know two simple things. One, she is still breathing. Two, no amount of saying or sighing can open the earth. How many times have we looked at the ground and wanted to speak up? This is how we age. This is snow. ...