plucks his gray suit coat
from hanger | clenches
his fist | thrusts through
sleeve | breast pocket cradles
frayed handkerchief | slate tie
squeezes adam’s apple |
smooths wrinkles along
seam of pant leg | black
scuff mark on shoe
disappears under sliding
thumb | shoves door
open | air too heavy
to lift the birds | smells like rain
My daughter said that about her dad.
I never saw the resemblance till she pointed to it.
There are no photos of him in view at her house.
I have his photos everywhere.
Her younger sister and I share anecdotes of him.
The older one not so much.
I remember she was ten when I lost my dad.
She dearly clung to her daddy that day
more than her persona allowed.
Grief’s gaping hole rips and drags at
varying speeds, times, and depths.
Have you ever started to read the Bible,
Then got impatient,
And turned to the last page to see how it ended?
My dear friend, Magnolia,
I have often found consolation while
standing within the embrace
of your sturdy branches.
You are a shelter from
the raging storms of life, so I ask,
What lessons can I learn from you?
I see such beauty in your leaves and blossoms
and strength in your trunk and branches.
When I look closely at your trunk
I see the place where your
two main branches separate
and you began to grow.
In that place of separation
I also see that a heart-shaped opening has formed.
It is a heart of healing in your trunk
that allows you to expand and grow.
What a timeless truth your trunk and branches tell!
Where there is a healing of separation
love can continue to grow.
It is in places of healing
that consolation and refuge are found
within a loving embrace .
Now I haven’t been able to read all the entries this month so far
but I started to become very, very worried
The poems I read are filled with birds…..
sparrows, nightingales, whippoorwills
some insects buzzing and flittering
Even a lovely short one about a frog (beautiful image)
and I was like: “WTF”
But it seems I needn’t be worried
Nothing attracts cats like birds, or crickets, or frogs
And they have arrived today
But so have the dogs
and the barking might frighten them away
I wake again, with my heart pounding and my mind spinning
Taking a deep breath to calm my body and mind,
I look at the clock
It is 3 am
This keeps happening since I heard the words
“I’m sorry, there was nothing more we could do”
When a family member was gone in the blink of an eye
Why does this feeling always come back at 3am?
Why does my mind always spin with all I need to get accomplished
Worry creeps in for my family members who are also struggling
My body aches from illness that always seems to happen when I am most busy
My body craves rest when my mind will not, so I get up at 3am
It takes a moment, but I remember that I am not alone,
That I have someone to talk to who knows what I am going through
So, in the darkness when everyone else is sleeping,
I cry out to Jesus, at 3am
Feeling better and more able to handle my life at the moment,
I hope that there is a day that my body and mind can rest an entire night again
But today, I make my to do list and begin my day
At 3 am
The lights flicker, steady, flicker,
disappear. I wait, but
there is no return.
This morning we had storms,
deluge of rain, lightning,
but electricity held.
Now it’s early evening, cool
and undramatic. Suddenly we are
powerless.
My house falls silent, dark.
No hum of fridge, no whisper
of fan. I move myself
out to my front porch. Chair,
book, journal, glass of wine—
ready for an evening
of spying on my neighbors.
I watch the family in the yellow house
across the street as they
load themselves into their car.
There on the steep steps
from the porch to the street is me.
A child about ten slowly descends
eyes fixed on the book she holds
open before her, absorbed,
oblivious to all admonitions
to pay attention,
hurry up.
Mamaw still lives in the hills
Though her body became one with the earth
Years ago
In the way butterflies nestle
Within the sweetness of tiger lily petals
In the way wild blackberries hang from the shade of a leaf
The purple stains dotted against the bush
In the way the sun still glistens above the rooftop
Of her home once shared with papaw
Mamaw is still there
Her spirit dancing amongst the life she planted into the earth
Forever and always
