Water and Stone
for Patrick (1950-2009)
I lose you in the lake
of my mind, your voice
no longer sounding last
words I carried home—
a comfort for so long
my failure to hear them
now seems a cruel loss
of memory. Grief manages
its own body language,
gives up its grip, lets go,
and where I've kneeled,
it's water turned to stone.
© 2015 Maureen E. Doallas
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
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3 comments:
words I carried home
a comfort for so long
my failure to hear them .. . .
Good one.
Thank you for finding words for this new loss that I hadn't ever thought about before: so painful, to lose the memory of your brother's last words.
P Placing "last" and "loss" at ends of lines leaves them hanging naked, in just the right way--until they fall into the next word which completes them
Maureen~you continue to give shape to your grief journey, to name the body language that so many experience, to reach beyond your own pain to join with others in moving forward. Remembering you and your brother today.
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