daylight crumbled
and the vast sky shifted endlessly
with flashing snowflakes
as wind howled unbreakable bits of sand
into me.
I turned my back to the blast
sat
and stared at the distant dim horizon
of ocean
to see far
but could not
then
for no reason
I could imagine
thought of my grandmother
dead now more than three decades—
how I never witnessed
the woman healthy
strong
only knowing the last part
of her human form
ravaged by heart attacks
her youth
just like
the dark outer edge
of the ocean.
This night
there would be
no vision
into the void
those luscious arms
pressing kisses
into six young children
hidden
and the children also
now all gone
including the second youngest
my dear mother
existence
just like that.
Everyone loves there Grandma, one for them, dave have a nice day
Excellent musing about family while watching to the dynamics of the day.
Sunday morning and I havent been to church in years. I even avoid weddings for fear stepping in the building hypocracy might rub off on to me. But still in the Sunday morning light I pray and think about people I love. It's a lovely poem.
Charles, It seems like such a long time since you posted anything. Then you return with this. The theme is miles away from that which I am used to from you. This is more visual, more portrait than narrative, in fact I would go further and say it is cinematic. This is a beautiful work Charles, one that you seemed to have put your all into. Denis Joe
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How the death of your grandmother, for instance, can be as shattering as an explosion, with life-long fallout. Have a good evening, C.C., Linda