Monday, March 7, 2022

Legacy of Grief (a poem)

 I became an orphan 

aged forty-two

Mother gone too soon

and stayed too long


Her limbs, trees bent at impossible angles

each joint unmoving, marked by gnarled knots

She clung tenaciously to this world, stubbornly rooted 

fear photosynthesized into obstinate will 

digging into earth turned soft 

Flooded by tears of pain, exhaustion, loss

Her sturdy scarred trunk waivered

as the ground she grew from eroded 

Sadness washing away the firmament

Worried winds of what-ifs and need-tos whipped through her leaves

pushing her crown askew and pulling her limbs

down and away

Come with me, they whispered



I held her hand 

bent my head down to rest on hers

my lips to her ear, I breathed

"Mom

It's okay if you need to go"

"But

I don't want to go," she said

"I'm not ready yet"



My proud tree of a mother

stood solidly rooted in this world, unwavering 

against the whims of nature

So the winds, now wailing

tired of waiting

heaved her over 

roots and all, mercilessly 

Torn from the tendered ground she lay

solid

branches still stretching out, beckoning

roots still clinging to earth

for life



Only Fate could fell this towering woman.

The groans of twisting wood 

the howls of angry wind

the suck of grit and strength 

wrenched from the slippery mud

are my legacy 

to remember and

to relive.



No longer a sapling

I possess wisdom in my rings

My branches have already begun to bend

in odd directions

mapped by small scars

always growing bigger

Until one day, when

the ground gives way and

the winds wail for me

"Come daughter,

it is time."



5 comments:

  1. Oh, my, Caroline. I'm so sorry for your loss and for your diagnosis. This is a hard day. The poem you have written of your strong tree mother is incredible. This line draws me in:

    "fear photosynthesized into obstinate will"

    The ending shows your deep wisdom and acceptance, even. But you are your mother's fighting daughter, as well. Peace to you.

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  2. Oh! This is beautiful. So glad you took the time to think and THIS came out. Very powerful. No longer a sapling

    I possess wisdom in my rings is my favorite line.

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  3. Caroline, thank you for stopping by my post and offering me an invitation to yours. Your poems is dramatic, tenderm and the imagery is to be applauded. Lines that resonated with me: "Her limbs, trees bent at impossible angles/each joint unmoving, marked by gnarled knots." There was strength in your mother's fight and sadness in your heart. I wish more people would read your slice. Hope to meet up with you againa.

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  4. Caroline, first of all....WOW! It really did take my breath away. So honest and raw. It takes a lot of punch-power to get this out on paper....and then to share. Thanks for that.
    I think your poem ends after "...branches still stretching out, beckoning/roots still clinging to earth/for life."
    In the next stanza it seems that you might be trying to explain the poem.
    And the last stanza "No longer sapling/...is another poem on its own.
    Just a few ideas to think about.
    Thanks again for sharing this.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks so much for the feedback! This will help me look at the poem with new eyes.

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