When I shouldn’t be wasting my time, he is before me
in the funny thing that aches his disappearance all over
again. Now convinced that the closing of my heart
dates to that winter day, along with all the distance
and shell-layers of brittle lacquer, the lack of warmth
in laughter, the need to say again in print it’s not fair
how we each carry in our cells some pain that spreads
dark cold
This morning thinking of my dad, not exactly related to but folding in with last night’s reading of W. H. Auden’s “In Memory of W. B. Yeats.” I used three lines from his poem as a kind of word list:
1) He disappeared in the dead of winter
2) The day of his death was a dark cold day.
3) And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom,
Jennifer, its four months today that Mom died. And though you wouldn’t think it to be true, your poem does bring comfort.
And I have wanted to tell you all summer, what a life line your writing has been for me. I seem to have forgotten how to write these past few months so to have your words there… well, its though I might have hope of remembering how to do that again someday.
I appreciate your beautiful writing so very much.
Thank you, my friend.
Kathleen
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hugs to you, Kathleen, as you grieve. And for this beautiful gift of encouragement just when I needed it most. ❤
LikeLike
this is exquisite work – so sad but so so beautiful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
Aching and beautiful, Jennifer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Merril.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That empty space never fills. You’ve caught my lost heart too. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your words are always insightful and just right. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Memories pop up when we least expect them, often tinged with shame or regret. Beautiful words for a fragile emotion.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So well pulled together. I am wondering about your choice to use a prose style. It occurs to me that there are some emotions too big and wild to be tamed into lines. Of all the big and wild emotions, grief is unquestionably the biggest and wildest.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is funny how these lines wrote themselves long. Grief is something that could fill pages, unchecked, so maybe that is just it.
LikeLiked by 1 person