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| Monday Morning Photo Prompt |
i am not here
don't kneel beside this stone
or decorate it for the occasion of your varigated mourning
do not tell me your harbored secrets, or
hatchling dreams in the infancy of their awakening
i am not here
don't wick seconds into the knees of your slacks
or clasp your hands over the marker of my passing...
rocking as you do in penitent sorrow
feeling it expected
a thrice yearly payment due this vacant sepulcher
over which even the trees fall silent in monastic posturing
i am not here
kneel beside the bed we lay, hot in our expectancy
decorate the herb garden that knew our knees together
and our hands wrist deep in soil...touching earth, smelling heaven
lay out your sorrow like a sponge
soak in the memories that fall like hail stones
and melt into the burgeoning skin that holds us both enshrined
the skin that is you...still living.
.
.
.
Simply beautiful, Annie.
ReplyDeleteA wonderful contribution to M.M.P.P.
(Thanks for joining in!)
Such true words ... wasted on those gone. Oh, this is beautiful!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! "The burgeoning skin that holds us both enshrined". I like that.
ReplyDeletehell yesss,,,
ReplyDeleteboy- this is great! Eoecially the last 4 lines!
ReplyDeleteAwesome, Annie. xoxo
ReplyDeleteReminds me of a poem I love by Mary E. Frye:
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
This is wonderful... so eloquent...
ReplyDelete~shoes~
oh yes, still living.
ReplyDeletei was thinking of this today on the way to work - i was thinking on cremation and burial and witnessing and saying good-bye and all the bullshit, i think, that comes with the final ceremony. and then i forced myself to think if it was my children. and then i forced myself to not think of them. and i thought, you can by a new pine cabinet for $400. why not a coffin? what's with all the fabric? it's gross. and why gather and why hang heads and why be such a spectacle? and how, my god, and how - how do we ever say good-bye?
and so yes, hello, and so yes, hello.
xo
erin
I found this uplifting… still living. No intention, even when dead. I won’t go there.
ReplyDeletelay out your sorrow like a sponge
ReplyDeleteloved this line
I am here :).
touching earth, smelling heaven is quite a moment to exist in.
ReplyDeleteyou say you are not here, are not here, and yet you are so very present in the poem.
Beautifully written and thought provoking.
ReplyDeleteWhat I'm thinking about is how in Japan, many people set up small shrines in their house for those who have gone on ... father or mother, husband or wife, or children taken away to early.
Anniversaries of the death are clearly marked and honored by a trip to the temple where the ashes are kept. Then a banquet among friends and family. Birthdays are half forgotten. It's so strange to me, and I don't understand it well.
Magic .. im so glad i have stopped by and visited your blog still reading away here even though the words voice the dead there is also as voice of your today present .. you have this loss ..so painful your memories of this loved person has such strength in the voice of your words Im certain you do this person proud as you did in life just beeutiful ,,, thankQ always Beez
ReplyDeleteI see you are ready for the rapture Saturday. See you on the other side.
ReplyDelete