Tag Archives: Mourning

The Last Photograph

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┬ędonnaesgro

…thinking of my father on Father’s Day -see my post “Consider the Source” for more on who he was

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The Last Photograph

He lies in the fading sun

in his beloved backyard

my father lies dying

In a tarnished frame

on the mantle

my father lies

in a frozen November

perennially dying

How hard the shadows fall

in my father’s garden

Where once I played

under blooming bushes

petals wet with dew

and bright as blood

How still he lies

his silvery hair tousled

his keen eyes closed

against the last glare

So distant, so cold

behind the glass

beyond complaint

in his little corner of borrowed light

 

donna burke esgro

6/18/17

 

 

 

The Wings of a Wren

┬ędonnaesgro

in memory of my mother on this sacred Mother’s Day

Read my post “In praise of Battered Books” for more on how my mother influenced my love of reading..

The Wings of a Wren

I kneel

she lifts her bare foot to me

the skin like parchment

on which is written

in flourishes of violet

the calligraphy of her eighty eight years

a girl with wind tossed hair

picking blueberries

on the craggy Maine coast

a feather boa of fog

the smell of creosote soaked pilings

and the calliope carousel music on the Santa Monica Pier

the bearing and birth of seven infants

one born still…ashen, silenced

blood, water, wonder

the Nautilus spiraled pain of loving too much

veins run rampant

like rivers gone wild

overflowing their borders

breaking madly into rivulets

She falls for the first time

walking across the suddenly too wide street

to the 7 Eleven

She falls for the second time

unable to rise

her morning coffee growing cold on the kitchen counter

She falls for the third time

calling out in a voice

as clear and fragile as glass

I fit the shoe onto her foot

and help her stand

her arms as light and hallow as the wings of a wren

she clings to me

as if I could keep her earth bound

donna burke esgro