Spring came on a bed of cloveremerald waves
lapping
chiseled granite
where old hands
rivers of veins
hammer tolling
had gorged rock
scored
date and dash
life marking
a life
before which
she stood
listening to the wind
her shadow and his
__________
you will get pass this
they said
as if
this was the thing to say
as if he
all that he was
could be packaged
as a this
get pass this
to where
she had wanted
to say
where?
she had wanted
to yell
into their vacuous faces
where would you
have me go?
to get pass
this
but she didn't
didn't have the energy
to talk of places
she'd never go
to give credence
to the idea
that he, them
was nothing more
than
just
a
this
they said
as if
this was the thing to say
as if he
all that he was
could be packaged
as a this
get pass this
to where
she had wanted
to say
where?
she had wanted
to yell
into their vacuous faces
where would you
have me go?
to get pass
this
but she didn't
didn't have the energy
to talk of places
she'd never go
to give credence
to the idea
that he, them
was nothing more
than
just
a
this
10 comments:
Ah, you took me to the UK. Evocative of areas quarried or mined. And your gorgeous, perfect image of waves of green tiny feet before sky blue and dark granite. That was a lovely trip as I sit in the hot, muggy, flash-flood warned desert.
Lime, the UK has its own shade of green. If I thought I could get my mind around it, I'd write about the green of the island. And where you are, there is no green. So drink up. :-D
A beautifully written piece. So very. As an advocate for silence, of sometimes it is better to say nothing than some thing, a hand laid upon hand in acknowledgement rather than assurances based not on knowledge but at best hope, the desire to offer comfort, and at worst habit or a lack of knowing what to say. And so often, though grief is something we have all experienced to some extent or another, the air between us become most perceptible, the individuality of mind and heart, of thought and feeling, illustrated so skillfully within this. There are a dozen things I could write about this, the more personal such thing was that it made me remember standing next to my grandmother's grave on the day of her funeral, one in a line of her closest family, and more distant family, and friends and some acquaintances passing from one to the other offering condolences by a handshake. I was not her husband, her mother, her sibling or her child, all of whom were in this line also and the difference in those handshakes was quite clear, which I do not say with the belief that whatever mournfullness I felt was not worse for them, but that certainly I became very conscious of most of these people losing no time before me, hardly touching my palm before moving on. Haven't explained well the reasons why I thought of this, but suffice to say, grief is very personal and though we may as two individuals share a circumstance, two widows, two orphans (etc), how we handle it, how we are affected, such things cannot be estimated or determined.
The first part of this post is profoundly beautiful, am truly, at least presently, at a loss to find words that reach so high.
It stirs up emotions in me in dealing with my own grief..
~Silver
Silver, thanks for taking the time to leave a comment. My own grandmother passed away a couple weeks ago and the images of the service are still very clear in my mind. Take care and hope to see you again.
Autumn, in times of grief, I know of no words that give succor as much as the eyes, the arms and just being do/can. And I know nothing more insulting than someone who doesn't know thinking they do. As always, your kind words and sharing are deeply appreciated.
Grief has no timelines does it? But yet, so many people want to impose one upon it. I read love and loss and longing all here, all simple as cotton, but dazzingly complex.
Love your site.
OHhhhh, Silver was here. I thought of her while I read this. Grief. There is no this. No here. No there. When there is grief like that there is barely breath.
You so rock this.
ConverseMomma, thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. I feel as a leaf touched by the sparkle of morning dew. Thank you for the kind words. :-)
No timelines on grief. Or love.
Woman, I'd buy you a beer right now if I could. Not a light beer, but something that feels heavy in the hand like a good beer should. We'd drink. Then I'd buy us another. And then, and only then, we would start to talk and share stories and I think at some point we would laugh. And probably cry too. But not before I got a few "abso-f*ing-lutelys" out of you. :-D
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