Monday, November 4, 2013

Through the Shattered Glass


A poem today. One I wrote the day after attending the funeral of a good friend who had passed away suddenly and tragically. He left behind a wife and a son, the boy only a few weeks old. I was trying to imagine what she must have felt like coming home to an empty house, what I would have felt like in her shoes.

A Wake

When all is said and done,
Casket lowered, covered over,
I open our front door
to find the space you filled a razor-sharp silence.
The house a shroud of quiet knives.

Our daughter rearranges her dinosaurs on the floor.
Her chatter cuts the stillness.
It closes in her wake.
Our life scattered, a chaos of pieces
that once were seamless.

Jagged edges reforming themselves
into stained glass.
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