Friday, June 18, 2010

Only the Good

Grandma’s dish drops, splits into shards
Sharp as the knife slipped into holiday roast
Sharp reminder every morning since
Mother’s passing.  Not immediately upon
awakening, but as soon 
as cognition sets in – 
they’re gone now.  
And their friends.  
Leaving us:  their children and
(surprisingly) their men 
to fend
without the wisdom from the portal
through which our lives began 
and will eventually end.

After the first year’s markers, the knife always dulls.
Only stories left of a young Uncle shot down
over France.  He sent those plates
before I was born.  And left nothing 
but shards.

-kls 2010

This was written in response to the picture above from Magpie Tales.  Write your own and click here to leave a link.


Anne Huskey-Lockard said...

Beautiful......reads visually.....


Words A Day said...

Stunning, lives changing summed up in so few words!

Carrie Burtt said...

A lovely poem...full of sentiment, and memory.

Anonymous said...

Brilliantly written!

nana_ang_poppaphil said...

What a lovely poem.

Anonymous said...

"without the wisdom from the portal
through which our lives began" really like this line....well done...bkm

Shelley Machock said...

I love this, it is so evocative.

Brian Miller said...

a beautiful write...the last line leaves an echo of the feeling through out...nice magpie.

willow said...

Beautiful Magpie.

Tumblewords: said...

Ageless memories. Lovely piece!

kathew said...

Echos of the past and lives gone- love your work!

Helen said...

I really appreciated how you tied the passing of time with the dulling of the knife ~ nice writing!

Aoife.Troxel said...

without the wisdom from the portal
through which our lives began
and will eventually end.

Nice, expressive poem.