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Grief, a Mysterious Stranger
Had I known grief sooner,
recognized her and loved her
anyway
I would not have sent
her across the river, dressed
in rags and and filled with hunger,
no rice, nor love in her begging bowl...
Terrified,
growing old in the daylight like the
shadow of sorrow
all alone and
unwanted in the evening when
blind crickets play their wild harps and fireflies
punch tiny holes in the night
to reveal all that is dark-eyed.
She turns silver in the moonlight,
squeezing my heart
like a balloon with too
much air, nearly at the point of
bursting or disappearing into the sky
without a trace like seasons, like
leaves, like grass, like water, like words.
Yes,
I would have recognized her face as
mine.
I would have held her closely.
I would have walked with her feet to all the places I
had been alone.
I would have listened to the songbird
frozen in her grief.
I would have loved her without pretense,
without remorse.
~~~
For my daughter
Editing stage:
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Comments
Nordic cloud
Sat, 2012-04-28 10:08
Oh beautiful and strong this
Oh beautiful and strong this heartfelt ode,
you pull the strings of life and we hear them
plucked in the quiet of the evening
and sigh with you,
its that strongly expressed dear Anna.
Ann
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
judyanne
Sun, 2012-04-29 12:36
beautiful anna
just beautiful
love judy
xxx
'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)
Kailashana2
Mon, 2012-04-30 07:08
Thank you ladies for reading.
Thank you ladies for reading.
After all is said and done, all our emotions are available to open us into living our lives as fully as humanly possibly, transcending even that.
Most of the times we close ourselves off. That closing off is the damage we do to ourselves and each other, I think.
~Anna
author commentEsker
Mon, 2012-04-30 23:12
draw the water and fire the bridge
sparks rise like bites of ache
landing like snowflakes
burning on our souls
and bleeding the scripts
we write so feverish
of how it should have been
I dont talk to my daughter
(twenty one)
the grief anger stretching
like a sky
a horizon filled with
so much and so far to look
the painful stark history
intimate and heavy
Enjoy Your writes
enjoy this
and feeling it
Thank You
Nordic cloud
Tue, 2012-05-01 02:39
Steven, you make a comment
Steven, you make a comment
that is so vast and wonderfully expressed,
draining the essence of
one delicate snowflake
into your warm heart.
Anna,
wasn't this a comment in a million?
Ann
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
Kailashana2
Tue, 2012-05-01 10:06
Yes, Ann.
Yes, Ann.
Let me say this Esker, my daughter's partner, fathered a daughter when we was very young. The mother wanted her husband to have full rights, so he signed away his cparental rights.. As was to be expected, it was a long road when she contacted him out of the blue when she was 16. Now it's 5 years later, and they have a good relationship. My daughter was instrumental in that. When we have family gatherings, her side of the family attends too, including her mother, her step father and (half)sister. It's not perfect, but what human relationship isn't a bit *messy*?
If only we could be like our pets, they know when they need love and attention, have no qualms *asking* for it.
Life is short.
~Anna
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