Saturday, 1 November 2014

In Good Company OR The Gift, Made to Last

Regular readers will know that I believe in the existence of ghosts in the nicest possible way.

Now, Easter or whenever... (When did remembrance ever play lackey to time?)


I went to your grave
on Easter day, a longing in the heart
to be near, as once we were

I knelt, unable to pray,
laid a bouquet of flowers at the stone,
glad to stay…
Someone wished me Peace,
said pain would pass and hurt grow less,
that you’d left but briefly,
but that’s not what I wanted
to hear, just to be with you once more
as once we were
A tugging at my sleeve,
but I wept, and would not, could not
leave without you;
gently now, lifting my face
to the sky, showing aspects of our history
like a home movie;
easy then to rise and turn away
from a stone and flowers, ours the gift
of eternity...

Walking hand in hand
through a cemetery, you and I, content
to be in good company

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2014

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised (2014) from an earlier version that appears in 1st eds. of First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

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