LETTERS TO THE DEAD: ELEVEN

try to contemplate
what little parts we play
in the world compelled by fate
where we find in air and light
the lines we’re asked to say

6/11/2018
Dear Pat, (1945 – 1968) 
         A somewhat cooler breeze blew through this morning.
After such a soggy letter and horrible poem from late last night
I’ve decided to let the dead speak for themselves.  The art
of letter writing is something I’m afraid this world has left
far behind. OMG, now it’s texting with digital emojis!
         I’ve quoted above from the only writing I have of yours.
There may be others around or I may have given them
to your offspring along with your early Dylan albums.
In the five decades since your simple twist of fate, I played
those scratched records so often – listening for hints
of who you were and who you may have been.
         The words of yours I have are written in cursive on
a photocopied sheet of a class assignment with the heading:
Brescia College   1967               Title: To A Friend
And to think that within a year you would get married,
have a child on the way, become a school teacher.
You had also become “best friend” to a very confused
younger brother.  (For me that time after The Accident
was like a hole – long and deep.)
         I close as I began, with your words.                    Love, Jim

Envoi:
let us remember our common plight
let us wish each the other’s fortune
for this life
and whatever’s next

LETTERS TO THE DEAD: TWELVE

6/12/2018
To Pat Lally Sr. (1917 – 1983)

god in his wisdom
ordained so well
that the young soon forget
the sorrow of death………..
but I don’t think
older people ever get
over the death of the young
*** Found poem from the letters of Joseph Kennedy Sr.