Wednesday, December 15, 2010

this poem starts off sad

Hurry along

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
n  Hopi Prayer

When you know you have lost
something you cannot get back,
go to the meadow and wait
for your mother to arrive- the once
miscarried baby in her arms.
This is how to die: meet in a field
of unidentified wildflowers.
She is wearing the sheer dress
with eucalyptus print- once
borrowed, once stained. Her
baby is wide eyed and fat.
What hat is she wearing? What gloves?
What flowers are these?
Never mind. Hurry along now,
or you will find yourself skipping 
to keep up.

i have been thinking about my grandmother a lot. i wanted to share this poem that i wrote last spring, during the last couple days of her life. i was very heartbroken to see her, but my mother told me that she was at peace, having seen my great grandmother in a dream, coming to get her in a meadow.

there is always christmas. but there are not always the people that make christmas. this year, will be different.

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