Tag: Funerary

Wolf Lake

On By kimtntIn childhood, Death, exposition, Father, Funerary, Poem, poetryLeave a comment


“This used to be my playground”
and our proxy for church on spring, summer and fall sabbaths


These were the halcyon days.


Load up the International Harvester TravelAll with wooden doors and quarter panels – it has two gas tanks, you know
Bought it used, but pristine
on payments – from the showroom on Logan Boulevard and Elston Avenue with zero credit history and all the usury


Have mercy.


Follow me, and I will make you fishers of fish


He will bait your hook on the bamboo pole he bought you
Later, you will insist on the “Pocket Fisherman” – as seen on TV

Continue reading “Wolf Lake” →

Wanderten Mutter

On By kimtntIn Death, Estrangement, Frau, Funerary, Hospice, Immigrant, Immigrants, Life and Death, Mother, Mutter, Parents, Stoic, Terminal Illness, Transistion, William BlakeLeave a comment
“Lief heim ins Seitelein.” Unitätsarchiv, R.20.E.36.12. Archiv der Brüder-unität, Herrnhut. http://bq.blakearchive.org/40.3.schuchard “Lief heim ins Seitelein.” Unitätsarchiv, R.20.E.36.12. Archiv der Brüder-unität, Herrnhut.
http://bq.blakearchive.org/40.3.schuchard

My life seems long, I know
My body’s mostly worn
Inside, she’s just begun to live, again
A girl gone long ago

There are bottled laughs to voice aloud
New smiles to wear with these old shoes
Time to know the world, and you, and you, and you…
Between these peeling walls of muted hues

Once Herr died
My Self was ready to return
My cadence so shy and slow,
Lamenting the awkward waste of precious years

I find my voice as I write the past,
But in my book, the Tomorrow has no page
Forever winter approaches from within
These years and years upright on hard chairs

Unreal, unseen, unheard, untouched
by the world, by the womb, it may concern, Whom
I speak through and then beyond this pain of bone and life
Before the cold within brings silence of the tomb

You see, to me, my presence still feels warm, and blush
somehow, even new
My life stretched out behind me, no steps ahead
And I forestall Death’s cue, awaiting mere glimpse of you

If you can imagine, child
I love, unsaid,
I feel as just alive, as real, as you.