Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Grief Part II

I subscribe to Poetry magazine and came across the following poem by W.S. Di Piero that moved me to tears.

What's Left
How often now, raging weeping for the days
love gives then takes away, takes from you
the slightly chapped hand laid on the one
you’re pointing at a tree, and the voice
that breathes coffeeberry bush into your mouth.  
The finger that taps and feathers your ear
but the giggle’s gone before you turn around.
The sandalwood scent hanging in the room,
the auburn strand like a flaw in the porcelain,
the off-course nail clipping in the carpet.
The days eat into your stomach, knife you
with longing for relief from love
that you cannot leave or leave alone,
from its rings of fire where you won’t
burn down to ash or be transformed.
You become them, and they keep burning
and have a coffeeberry voice.
           Listen how
                     their rhymes sing
                               the little deaths you live.
A number of my friends are experiencing loss right now - of a parent, a partner, an ex, of faithful pets. I hate grief. The little deaths we live, the small reminders, " an off-course nail clipping in the carpet," a familiar voice, causing us to turn and smile with expectation and then...remembering.