Afterwards is the number of steps it took to
get home, afterwards is an empty home.
Afterwards is washing that has to be brought
in before sunset, dinner that has to be
cooked, bills that have to be paid, afterwards
is hearing the word ‘obituary’ as if for the
first time and wondering why words like
it – estuary and sanctuary – are about peaceful
places. Afterwards is falling asleep on the
couch because the room you slept in for 27
years is suddenly too cold, the TV still on
because silence is no longer a choice. Afterwards
is breaking the present into tolerable pain and
denial, recasting the past into unrelated
memories and denial, framing tomorrow into
impossibilities and denial. Afterwards is a
phone call you cannot make, a god you cannot
forsake. Afterwards is every moment you spend
forgetting that the blood on the officer’s uniform
came from a body you can no longer hold.
Image by Norbu Gyachung (Picture prompt provided by Visual Verse)
First published on Visual Verse (Vol 06, Chapter 4)
THOUGHT PURGE 
Stunning, thoughtful writing, the afterwards of times. I was really taken with the “ary” ending words, where meanings are opposing.
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Thanks so much, Sara.
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Perfectly done, Rajani. many of us have been there. You evoke such powerful emotions with your words.
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Thank you, Vivian.
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🙂
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This really is so moving Susan and beautifully written. My wife was diagnosed with a terminal illness in 1998 and fought like a tiger for 12 years to get as much out of those final years with her family she could.
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Wow.. a courageous and beautiful woman. Sorry for your loss, Robin… your romantic poems are an outpouring of your love.
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Afterwards, alone. Oh. Only accepting my own mortality helps. Only that 23 years have passed since. Only that solitude can be indulging in internal sensations of presence that never fade. Only the changes from bitter anger to abject grief to more and more life. Afterwards is definitely poetry and sleeping on the couch with the TV on.
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Oh Susan… that left me speechless. Life is a hard teacher. But that progression to more and more life, accepting life’s limitations, is the essence of hope and living. Lots of love from way out here.
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Wow you know how to pull the heartstrings Such a powerful poem which so much expresses the experience of loss
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Thank you Marja.
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Your poem pierces the heart. I hope it is not biographic.
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No Myrna…was just responding to the picture prompt. Thanks so much for asking.
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This is so powerful….the blood on the officer’s uniform, that turns everything into Before and After. An amazing poem.
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Thanks so much, Sherry.
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That afterwards is affecting and powerful. Thank you for the gift of words!
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Thank you Khaya.
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Now that my partner has been dead for 23 years, it has changed. I welcome him in. Yet I am familiar with all of your “afterwords” and I’m prepared to go through the cycle more times than I already have as parents and friends age. I think being happy to be mortal myself helps, as does having many doorways to solitude and privacy.
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The most unimaginable kind of solitude…
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True…
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kaykuala
Interestingly ‘afterwards’ is conveniently a fall-back on lots of happenings to explain what needs to be done. It can be a reminder but also ideal to those who procrastinate.
Hank
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I’m so pleased to see you’re in Visual Verse again, Rajani. The repetition of ‘afterwards’ and ‘denial’ is very effective, as is the brief exploration of the words ‘obituary’, ‘estuary’ and ‘sanctuary’. I also like the use of internal rhyme in the lines:
‘…Afterwards is a
phone call you cannot make, a god you cannot
forsake.’
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Thank you, Kim. The internal rhyming was not conscious… thanks for pointing it out!
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Ah, in the din of opinions and word-wars, the stories of loss are oft ignored. It’s beautiful how you bring to foray that loss with such tangibility and thoughtfulness. The “Afterwards” refrain enforce and reinforce the idea of getting on in some way or the other which is both heartbreaking and hopeful. I loved this bit in particular: “Afterwards/is breaking the present into tolerable pain and/denial, recasting the past into unrelated/memories and denial, framing tomorrow into/impossibilities and denial.”
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Very touching. TP. Except for the final I was think death of a partner or divorce. Both leave us as lonely unless we are the perpetrators. After 49 years I still have a stifled son when I sigh inwards. Even after a new love and marriage for 45 years the hurt is still there.
..
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Someone once told me that it never stops hurting..it will just matter less and less as life goes on. I don’t know if that’s true because some things hurt just the same and matter just the same. We only hope to come through as better people at the other end. Am glad you found new relationships that kept you going. Sending you warm wishes!
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This reaches deep into my heart. Death comes to every door, and it breaks the spirit into a thousand pieces.” hearing the word ‘obituary’ as if for the first time and wondering why words like it – estuary and sanctuary – are about peaceful place” Yes, why? There is so much I want to say about this poem, but at the moment I’m speechless. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this poem.
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Thank you for your kind comment, Susie. Much appreciated. That prompt was very powerful and the words followed naturally. Would love to know your thoughts if you get a chance to read the poem again.
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Extremely powerful. That repetition builds up into a roar of pain.
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Thank you, Rommy.
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I wish I’d written this. My hat’s off.
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Thanks so much, Ron.
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“afterwards is hearing the word ‘obituary’ as if for the first time and wondering why words like it – estuary and sanctuary – are about peaceful places.” This is such a timely and poignant poem, Rajani.
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Thanks so much, Sanaa.
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The power of this poem doubles itself as we move from common loss to uncommon: All the rituals of Afterwards (threaded so softly and surely here) become this other, uncommon tragedy of the heart on the heat of the street and the loud crash of the times. A good poem is one that leaves its local touchstones (like a picture prompt) behind; this will do quite well on its own.
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Thank you, Brendan. That’s very kind. Sometimes a prompt takes us to a place we aren’t prepared to go by ourselves. Am glad this poem worked out though and found its voice.
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afterwards
is hearing the word ‘obituary’ as if for the
first time and wondering why words like
it – estuary and sanctuary – are about peaceful
places.
This struck me right to the heart!
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Thank you, Kerry. That was a very moving prompt!
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Just outstanding! My dear friend Mary lost her husband last week and the funeral in Denver was yesterday. When the time is right, I’ll send this to her, OK? Right now is too soon, I think.
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Of course, Sarah, whenever you think is appropriate. Visual Verse provides wonderful picture prompts each month and this one was particularly inspiring given what’s happening almost everywhere. At the end of the face off, no matter how brave, that woman has to go back and cope with the rest of her life.. just the rest of that first day. Like so many others. For so many horrible reasons.
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