—– —– —- emptiness into emptiness into
this, which did not die. How can I be brave
when all this now stops? All that we once knew
must go … go down into darkness of grave
dirt — words stop, too, they’re heavier than earth;
right now I can’t shape them. I am a nurse.
I know about the science of death, birth
and all that lies in-between. What is worse
than this? needing but being unable
to find words, emptiness into — I know
I need my words about my grandmother
when we all gather at her funeral
but our matriarch is dead, she must go
now, wait for all of us to come to her.
On Monday morning, November 11th, my 92 year old grandmother passed over. I will be off-line for a while, I must fly out to California and help my family prepare for the funeral. Almost everyone on my father’s side died before I was born. Up until now no one on my mother’s side had died, This isn’t the poem I shall read, but it is the poem about not knowing what to say.
I hope everyone is well. Cheers.