When WP Blogger Michelle W invited us to share an experience of being outside, looking in, this immediately came to mind.

Behind the Veil

My closet is a cemetery of clothes.

There is the flower girl dress,

so long buried in frayed tissue,

now just a skeleton

of lace and tulle,

the shade of an old bruise.

I hold it close and remember

the day I rode with the bride,

behind the veil

waiting to be noticed.

Toni 1/9/14

8 thoughts on “Daily Prompt: The Outsiders

  1. I had a morbid fascination with flower girl dresses and first communion dresses, neither of which I ever had since, um, well, since I guess no one wanted me as either a bride’s girl with flowers (now I grow my own, so there) or as a bride of Christ or whatever a first communion dress signifies. Uh oh. I’m showing woeful ignorance of all things Catholic here. But that’s the truth. My two best girlhood chums were Catholics:Patty B. and Patty D. (and I was Patty R.; 1946 was a big year for Patty). (My best high school chums were all Jewish: Marlene, Martha, Howie, and Larry–and they all had WWII survivor parents: I hope to see them all at our 50-year reunion. I don’t know what happened to all the potential Protestant chums. WERE there any in my town?) Back to the Pattys: As we walked up Lafayette Street home from school (I always walked WITH my sibs TO school and WITH the Pattys BACK from school) they’d tell me things I needed to worry about, such as the fact that my new-born baby sister was going to be permanently in Purgatory if my parents couldn’t agree on a name for her. (As it was when she–as a grown-up–went to get her birth certificate from the town hall, it STILL said Baby Girl Raymond.)
    Patty
    Love this poem, Toni! As you can see, it resonated something from deep inside me. 🙂

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  2. I remember looking out from behind a veil on my Investiture day. It felt mysterious and very holy. Giving oneself to God was a big thing back in those days. Thanks for bringing back the moment, Toni. I was a different person then.
    your poem is beautiful. The “like a bruise” simile brought my mind to sudden standstill…. sad words.

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