So Quickly

so quickly,
even before time has scrubbed the stains of life from its trembling hands,
even before the heart and mind have unveiled their infinite mirrors of denial,
so quickly,
from she and her,
death had birthed a body.
it.
it needs to be covered.
it needs to be moved.
the oil lamp in the corner scorches the air that last burst free from her lungs.
without warning.
without knowing.
it.
it lies on ice.
it is covered with flowers.
one marigold is already wilting on the summer floor.
so quickly,
they lift it,
four shoulders where once she was cradled in four arms.
to the fire.
to the light.
this home
like a tortoise shell,
that it carries away as it leaves,
and the sky rushes into the emptiness,
grey and cold.
i rest my head on the cloud walls
and we try to weep together,
the porch wet with stars,
with time, the spots on its hands now raw and bruised,
with the mirrors, within the mirrors.
so quickly,
she was born.
she was gone.
when death birthed a body.
without her name.
without her pain.
it.

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33 thoughts on “So Quickly

  1. The scrubbing of those hands is so harsh and painful – how swiftly life can be eradicated and yet i hope the essence of who we are remains – can be treasured..remembered and in time reclaim her name..thoughts to you

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  2. Such a beautifully written poem of grief and loss…..I especially felt ” i rest my head on the cloud walls / and we try to weep together, / the porch wet with stars,” I am so sorry for your loss. You wrote this so beautifully.

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  3. “we try to weep”

    Sometimes grief is so deep that weeping is impossible. (I speak from experience.) Years later, however, there may come an unexpected flood of tears

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  4. Everything is in this poem. Everything that describes those feelings of loss when death snatches away someone we love. I am mesmerized by so many lines here. The ones that Sherry points out are among them. I too am sorry for you loss, and all of our losses.

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  5. This just really struck me–the writing feels so personal–and the images work so well–

    I loved these lines especially–

    i rest my head on the cloud walls
    and we try to weep together,
    the porch wet with stars,

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  6. Life becomes “it.” What was full now needs to be covered, moved, marked with flowers. Stark, eerie–you give us the impressions with a big emptiness in the middle.

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