When Priscilla Passed Poem by Grace Diane Jessen
When Priscilla Passed
Effie sat propped up in bed, reading
by lamp light, but could not concentrate
on words.She could think only
of Priscilla, her dearest friend,
lying ill six blocks away.
The children were asleep, Jim had gone
to town board meeting, and silence
wrapped the house like a heavy cloak.
Effie looked up to rest her eyes.A man
stood in the doorway to the dining room.
She recognized him at once, although
they had buried him five months before.
It was her father.He said nothing, but
walked into the room, past her bed,
toward the tall west window.A woman
followed him, wearing a shawl that
hid her face.Effie was only a child
when her mother died, could not be sure,
but in her heart she felt it must be her.
Another woman walked behind them -
Priscilla.The three moved silently
across the room, passed without effort
through the window pane and vanished.
When Jim came home, undressed,
reached for the lamp, Effie spoke:
"Leave it on, please."
"Why, Effie, what's the matter? "
"I just want the lamp left on."
Jim studied her face, sighed, put
his arms around her."I wasn't going
to tell you this until morning, but
I think I should.At meeting, word came
that Priscilla died tonight."
Effie leaned her head against his
chest and whispered, "Yes, I know."
This poem received first place in a National Federation of State Poetry Societies contest in 2013 and was published in Encore, prize poems of NFSPS,2013.
Fabulous poem. I tried to read it aloud to my wife, and my voice kept cracking as I got all choked up. Congratulations on the first place win in the contest! I'm adding this to my favorite poem list!
I keep coming back to read this marvelous poem again and again. I can't get through it without tears coming to my eyes!
I read Belle Wassermeister's poem 'Poor Mary' and it made reference to this poem, so I came here to read it. When I got here, I discovered that I HAVE read it before, and even put it on my favorites!
Just re-reading this poem on my favorites list. Outstanding stuff!
How, "death makes us part", is a misnomer…. When we love one another, nothing makes us part.
Wow! How a great sorrow, a big loss is washed away by a little hug!
Such a wonder of words; a soul allowed to shine forth, briefly. The Mystery of life ever moves onward.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 3:48:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Wow, that's an exciting poem about your relative. Congratulations.