Painted With The Roses (Annie Dillard's Pilgrimage) Poem by M.J. McGuire

The sign on her aging body,
An emblem or a stain?
The keys to the chosen kingdom
Or the dreaded mark of Cain?

She's been painted with the roses
On an ordinary day,
In the land of Tinker Creek
Where the wood ducks fly away.

Her time a continuous loop,
With subtle snake-like eyes,
Rolling mythically as water,
Under stippled clouds and skies.

Her woods are flushed with flowers.
Her soul's been cleansed of pain.
The sassafras grows wildly
Where the trillium is slain.

With dragonflies emerging,
Like muse from a magic pen,
Her left hand speaks of "glory, "
Her right hand of "amen."

The assault of God's creation
(goldenrod from the sky)
Has taken root within her,
Where deadwood used to lie.

(1997)