Newsletter Pause for Sadness
A couple poems for my dad
My dad died this week. He was 82 and it wasn’t exactly unexpected, but obviously we’re all sad and things are upended for a bit.
So, I thought I’d post a couple poems that seem on topic. I published this a few years back in Third Wednesday.
You Say Grief
You say grief is a dark lake we must pass through
or stay stranded forever on that arid shore.
But maybe grief is also the shore where you walk.
Maybe grief is the person who walks.
The person who walks inside of you.
The foot placed where you leave a footprint
at the bottom of the lake. Someone swims above.
Their shadow covers you. You can’t see your shadow.
And this is one I just wrote for my dad. The title is something my mom often says when there are life setbacks.
Another Fucking Growth Experience
Sometimes when I make querulous complaint
I hear my father, that paragon of querulousness
cursing in my voice the traffic snarl
the lost pill bottle, life’s unending petty trials.I did not want his voice to whine in mine
or thought I didn’t, while he still whined on.
Now the snarls have smoothed, the argument’s wound down.
I hear his voice when I complain he’s gone.
I’ll be back to regular posting next week probably. Thanks all for supporting me; I appreciate it.
thanks for your kind words, evryone.
Noah I feel for you. I lost my dad years ago and my stepdad more recently. But what really struck a nerve was your second poem. My mom, still living, has been a source of love and pain for my whole life. She is famous for her unhinged tirades (sometimes racist) and telling people "the hard truth". I have fashioned my life and persona differently. But sometimes when I go off on a rant or rage I hear her in my own voice. In my family we jokingly refer to my moments of possession as "the crazy Chinese lady" as my mother is the OG crazy Chinese lady. I'm sure that when I lose my mom her voice in my own mouth will continue to haunt me.