What is dead? What is alive?
Did the pomegranate die? Yet not, when snow burned
its tropical bark to husk, still Summer entreats and buds
burst forth, unapologetic in rejecting funeral.
Did the bird who flew into my window, stunned and flailing
in throws of dark, submerge and phoenixesque reborn?
To defy the cat who hankers for her flesh with precise
stalk, undetected in blackberry foliage?
What is dead? What is alive?
Your father, her sister, their mother, slipping
to the other side, where we yearn to know
what lies beyond. Behind the veil, where will
love reside when you must leave?
I do not feel your presence here anymore
it is as if you were and then you were not
a slipping from one world to another remote
yet in my heart
where you lay your hand once, firm
and declared me dear
I hold a mountain
a forge that will not grow cold
in those times it grieves me to be apart
wishing to bury myself in your familiar skin
it is the bird I saw lying as still as rock, I recall
not moving an inch, stiff to touch
and turning at the sound of approaching car
I feel before I see, a rustling, reverberation
in humid Summer air
as taking flight in feeble entreaty, the same bird
gasps for height
beyond me now, surviving glass
what we thought lost, threads sky with color
a cry, a wink, then obscured by cloud
maybe in that singing bowl of wonder
lies our answer
within us, as without
love survives, love is found
restored in memory
unspoiled, unbroken.
(for Marjorie)
I’m so happy you didn’t cease to blog (as I remember you said you were, some time ago) I do so love reading your words
Thank you dearest Charlie. I didn’t cease just had to move my blog off WP because of their unfair ban. But I still come through the WP Reader (teehee – foiled!) and I very much appreciate the read from you. I am seeing less readership as I believe it’s harder to see through the Reader I employ but I’m always so delighted to see those I care about, on this blog xo
In the Iliad, Achilles opined
That immortality exists
In being remembered
If I remember aright
In his grief for Patroclus
“Parting” wrote the Bard of Avon
“Is such sweet sorrow.”
Remembering our departed ones
Yes, sorrow and sweet
Eternity may be, or not
But here, in Time, the time we have
Make them immortal, yes, we do.
With “yet in my heart” and your closing lines you answer your question
Ah this is just .. how do you do it? HOW?
D, I think I have taken a leaf out of your book of positive thinking of late. See my latest post. Moreover, I have begun to truly see how there is hope. Thank you for always being one of the few people I truly cherish. You are neverfailingly kind and supportive and that doesn’t go unnoticed or valued.
The connections seem to make themselves when the themes run so deep. And there is a process, I think, called loose associations which is a gift for poets and a symptom for schizophrenics and manics. And there is a special pleasure in amazing YOU, the queen of the kaleidoscope of words.
🙂 Thank you, too
Those last lines speak to my heart– beautiful as always