Something about the moment, the exact
brightness of the sun’s rays, a delicate degree
of the slightest breeze through broken limbs of
the pine trees-the slightest scent of their sap,
just enough to make me remember my father.
It’s happening a lot these days, you know.
Sometimes it’s a cardinal on a chain link fence,
the scent of fresh brewed coffee after dinner,
slow moving smoke from a neighbor’s chimney,
a shiny white pickup truck in the parking lot, or
a few words strung together, a certain phrase,
a song playing over speakers in a grocery store.
Lately it’s the little things, maybe it’s a stage
of the grieving process, ministers speak of this
at funerals, psychologists write about it in books.
It stops me in my tracks, I think about my father
and the others who are long gone- the old ones,
aunts, uncles, grandmothers, and grandfathers.
I go to a lonely place, for a bit, but snap back quickly.
Please don’t worry about me; I keep going on and on.
These times are messages, little taps on my shoulder,
faint whispers saying, it’s alright, alright to miss them.
brightness of the sun’s rays, a delicate degree
of the slightest breeze through broken limbs of
the pine trees-the slightest scent of their sap,
just enough to make me remember my father.
It’s happening a lot these days, you know.
Sometimes it’s a cardinal on a chain link fence,
the scent of fresh brewed coffee after dinner,
slow moving smoke from a neighbor’s chimney,
a shiny white pickup truck in the parking lot, or
a few words strung together, a certain phrase,
a song playing over speakers in a grocery store.
Lately it’s the little things, maybe it’s a stage
of the grieving process, ministers speak of this
at funerals, psychologists write about it in books.
It stops me in my tracks, I think about my father
and the others who are long gone- the old ones,
aunts, uncles, grandmothers, and grandfathers.
I go to a lonely place, for a bit, but snap back quickly.
Please don’t worry about me; I keep going on and on.
These times are messages, little taps on my shoulder,
faint whispers saying, it’s alright, alright to miss them.
3 comments:
I wanted to let you know that I was inspired by your poem Moments of Silence to write my own silent-moment poem. Thanks for sharing so much! You have a great command of language.
beautiful poem of a day to day reality..love this!
Reading your poem was as if it came from my heart, grieving my husband every day since October. I talk to him, I tell him I need him to help me through the pain in my heart & head. I cry as if on auto pilot any time anywhere, every place I go he is there as I miss him. I am trying desperately to recognize the finalty of his death, he was the love of my life for 57 years. I just want the sadness to go away, memories sustain me. Your poem is beautiful.
Post a Comment