What brings you to your knees sun on mornings when you flee the other world and mask yourself with cloud flattening the day’s light into scrim I feel certain of your grief and lie resigned to graying tears running down a window cheek the house dogs take dimness as a time to sleep so there is that
Birds perch on the balding arms and bud knobbed fingers of the kitchen door apple tree There is a flashing gleam from the eye of a jay the sun finding unlikely passage My mind blinks in disbelief that such a thing could be My heart knows better and begins to sing
Seven mornings in a row the early eastern light has snatched me away from sleep filling my eyes with huge slashes of sunrise, dark angry and pink The first was on samhain, and I could see the hand of Rage reaching slyly toward the thinning scrim of time’s divide its camp follower Fire hoping to slip through alongside compressed to nothing like the soft bones of mice The whispers of my genes begged shout No and cry many tears They will thicken the dawn refusing entry to this surfeit of evil All you love depends on them
At the piano I watch small fingers make their music so determined so well done the joy in her eyes is in my heart joking laughter with her brother so much taller than the last time more movies made and volumes read a classroom visit sticky hands and icing gingerbread embellished a dog asleep in sunlight the rhythm of lives cherished and held close in memory to be enriched once more
This prose poem was written as I read about the events in the lives of two very dear members of an online creative group I belong to. it is posted in recognition of profound love and loss, and my abiding gratitude for the love of my family, as we gather together this week.