Visitation
A visitation starts with a sideways
glance into the rear view mirror,
the parking lot where pre-teens
have run away from the unfamiliar
body of their grandpa to play in the gravel,
the awkward shuffle past the statue
of St. Thomas Moore to the chapel
where where your cousin’s wife hugs,
hugs every visitor with the certainty
of heaven…a place where you’ll
see everyone,
everyone that’s gone before.
You stand with aging friends
wondering
who’ll be next
10 thoughts on "Visitation"
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This is why I try to stay away from funerals, Jim 😏
That first verse! So good.
A LOT in so brief a poem.
This is so timely for me, man.
And it is so on target in multiple ways, from opening two lines, to the end, slowing up, stretching out, and quietly gut punching.
Love the way you repeat “hug,” how it becomes a bridge between the two stanzas, and a bridge between this cousin’s wife and everyone she hugs, and earth and heaven for that matter–expanding outward. So well done.
Great way to ground us right in the beginning! “Certainty of heaven” – if only!
A very thought provoking last stanza Jim.
You gave me a new perspective on visitations!
Shew, I appreciate this. My favorite line is “hugs every visitor with the certainty/of heaven”
love how the poem ends on how people are thinking about themselves as much as about the loss
I could see, hear, and feel, “run away from the unfamiliar/body of their grandpa to play in the gravel.” Love the word choices.