Tuesday, September 30, 2025

To The People Not on this Earth Anymore


Are those wind-blown tree leaves waving hello,

     or are they shaking with fear?

 

I demand to know why

    you are not honored daily

      with a big confetti parade

by everyone who knew you

    as a long-time resident of this clay orb?

 

We wretched ones look up at the sky

  That’s all we have

     to make us feel connected to you

Picking out a star to address

 

Can you hear our warbles and clamor

   crying out for you from down here?

We like to think you can                                                           

 

How did your wife go to bed that first night

     next to your pillow?

Clothes in the closet with your scent,

    your guitar in the corner

 

Now you are air -

       nowhere  

and everywhere

                 

Aliveness is the hope

   of secretly exchanging

        those pink popping firework blossoms

    with each other

 

In a black and white photo,

    my grandma and grandpa,

        standing on a lawn, in formal dress,

 my grandma barefoot, carrying

       her wedding-guest shoes

Living, breathing, swallowing, perspiring …

Their lives gently paved the way for mine

     as their deaths will gently pave the way for mine  

                         

We can’t get away from

   the omnipresence

     of the flip side

 

Blessed with bounty,

   and full of dread


No comments:

Post a Comment