Lisa Zaran

Rookie (September 26,1969 / Los Angeles, California)

Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen - Poem by Lisa Zaran

Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.

I stand at the closet door, my hand on the knob,
my hip leaning against the frame and ask him
what does he think about the war in Iraq
and how does he feel about his oldest daughter
getting married to a man she met on the Internet.

Without eyes, my father still looks around.
He sees what I am trying to do, sees that I
have grown less passive with his passing,
understands my need for answers only he can provide.

I imagine him drawing a breath, sensing
his lungs once again filling with air, his thoughts ballooning.

Comments about Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen by Lisa Zaran

  • (12/7/2006 8:14:00 PM)

    Hi Lisa. Beautiful piece here. It especialliy hits home as I recently lost my father as well. ~s (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
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  • (2/16/2006 7:26:00 PM)

    Wow I really like that poem. It's true, nobody is ever really gone. I lost my father and I still feel him around sometimes. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, July 20, 2005

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