Frustration
I can’t recapture those moments,
but I was with you then.
I can’t bring back here
that same intensity of words,
immediacy of action,
rush of emotion or thought.
It won’t come back new
no matter how well I summon
over and over every detail, no matter
how precisely I recall. It’s all
only play-acting, telling myself stories
about times that are lost, people
(ourselves) who are gone. But I was
with you then, we had those moments,
and when I was in them I was in them –
‘fully present’, as they say. You
didn’t allow for anything less.
I can be grateful for that.
I can keep the knowledge
of what you gave me in those moments
of your own focused attention.
But that’s all. There won’t be more.
That’s what being dead means –
and I’m still more than a little bit
cross with you, but you aren’t there to tell.
The many things, the many daily,
everyday things I would have saved
to tell you, go nowhere now:
stillborn. So I have to move on.
Decided NOT to read this at her memorial service and bring everyone further down! However it was well received at the local 'Poets Out Loud' reading a couple of nights later, by people who knew me but not her. Sharing also, now, at Poets United's Poetry Pantry #497.
It is so hard....so much to tell her, and now she is gone....but perhaps, she will hear you if you speak to her. The hard thing is not being able to hear her reply. So hard to lose a friend like her, Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteOh, I am just in the disgruntlement stage of grief!
DeleteI relate and this mirrors the poem I posted. Stages of grief. I had a hard time finding your poem today. Your link on my blog and the Poets United page didn't take me here.
ReplyDeleteOh, this isn't the poem I shared at the Pantry. But I am happy for you to have seen this one. (And the link on your blog was just to my website.)
DeleteSharing it at the next Pantry!
DeleteThis is the way it is - exactly - after a close person has passed. You can't bring back those experiences shared, and you can't share anything more. It is very, very sad really, and I know the feeling of wishing there was a continuation & knowing there cannot be. Powerful writing.
ReplyDeleteYeas, another friend to whom I read it also said, 'You've captured it exactly.' I'm very glad to know I have done so, so that it speaks to others who have experienced this.
Deletethe many daily,
ReplyDeleteeveryday things I would have saved
to tell you - yes, that hit home - very hard. Moving on is hard, but necessary... but how!
Bit by bit, I suppose ... and expressing it helps.
DeleteSuch a powerful poem - one of strength in the face of loss
ReplyDeleteI hadn't thought I was being strong ... but I suppose you're right. Thank you for giving me that perception.
DeleteYes, very much so. My mother found writing letters to my father after he died was a way to cope.
ReplyDeleteI just talk to people in my head. And of course write poems.
DeleteStillborn. So I have to move on
ReplyDeleteA very powerful poem. I can relate to the anger of them leaving you and the grief. Thanks for sharing this
I'm grateful to have a space in which I can.
DeleteThis is so personal and raw, yet so familiar, it was hard to read, Rosemary. Tears are brimming...
ReplyDeleteI'm honoured by your tears, Kim.
DeleteThere can be but few of us that have not suffered grief of a loved one in our lives; however few of us dare write about so beautifully as you have done Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad I can. It's some kind of release / relief.
DeleteThis really speaks to me Rosemary! I can deeply relate to the loss. It is a true blessing that you were fully present in the moments you did share.
ReplyDeleteThat's very true.
Deletesometimes the pain hurts real bad. and writing about such loss can perhaps releases some of the grief.
ReplyDeleteyes, the many things you wanted to say to her are in a way, stillborn, but perhaps in a way, she will know.
I believe she does – but the everyday trivia no longer seem like matters which will interest her now that she has moved on. She is on a different plane now.
DeleteAll those emotions coming to end... even the frustration has been replaced by just coping. I can understand why a poem like this would be hard to read at her funeral..
ReplyDeleteI felt I couldn't do that to others there, who were trying to make it an uplifting occasion of celebrating her life ... which it was.
DeleteThey say grief is love gone homeless.So many things missing after a deep loss - a terrible trick played on our expectant minds that struggle to adjust. And our hearts who still know the love to be here, even though the object of that love is transmuted. I'm so sorry you're going through this loss, Rosemary, and I'm glad you are able to express your feelings through poetry. Perhaps your dear friend can feel your words from a different plane.
ReplyDeleteOh I'm sure she does!
DeleteIt is such a gift to be fully "in the moment" that they can never be recreated. That time has passed "that is what being dead means." But even so memory lives on. Even if it's never the same.
ReplyDeleteOh yes!
DeleteI talk to people who have travelled on, in my head but mostly, out loud since I am alone most of the time. I dreamed of my mother last night how feisty she was came out in the dream. I have been talking to her most of this morning. I understand the frustration though. It makes me angry that they have died though. I am coming to grips with those who died last year. Slowly.
ReplyDeleteI am an old hand at grief myself (even if each new one has to be experienced on its own terms). It's quite a journey, isn't it?
Delete
ReplyDeleteIt’s the hardest thing to remember those moments we shared with our loved ones. I liked how are you put this sad feelings into words.
Thank you for understanding.
DeleteThis is how it is--at least for me--but when I try to write about it, I get stuck--you say it so beautifully!
ReplyDeleteLots of practice at the craft means that when you need to just blurt onto the page, uncensored, the craft takes care of itself.
DeleteI have read this a couple of times now.. and each time there is a fresh feeling of pain. It's not easy to bear the loss of a loved one and to move on after they have passed. I agree with Robin, it takes a lot of courage to write of loss as beautifully as you have, Rosemary. xo
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Sanaa. It does help somewhat to have this poem 'heard'; it counts for something.
DeleteBeautifully penned, Rosemary. It has been over 12 years since my closest friend passed and - occasionally, when I first awaken - for a moment or two, I think to myself: Oh, I should give her a call, I have so much to tell her … and then the grief comes again (milder, of course, but still there) … At this point, I don't think that my subconscious will ever fully accept that Susan is gone from me forever.
ReplyDeleteNo, probably not, if it has been 12 years already. Yet, to feel equanimity about it would perhaps be even worse.
Delete