at the door
our daughter stands at the door of forever
her hair a pelt both soft and foreign to us
her eyes are closed or turned away and distant
as she leans into it using her whole body
all her immortal weight pressing forward
all of her selves together in the moment
alarm sounding and something shifting quaking
the shudder of engine finally giving up
the heave and rumble settling to stillness
and we think of the door frame, the extra studs
the heavy header, the metal reinforcement
and the pre-dawn tremblor that time at Disney
land when she was 4 and didn't even wake
her voice vibrates in our bones a constant wave
the overriding harmonic resonance
we remember when she was born, the minute,
hour, and day, the fog clinging to the ground
the feeling of release how our breath becomes
the sky, the brightest blue on this afternoon
unveiled after days of gray shades, clouds and rain
her hair a pelt both soft and foreign to us
her eyes are closed or turned away and distant
as she leans into it using her whole body
all her immortal weight pressing forward
all of her selves together in the moment
alarm sounding and something shifting quaking
the shudder of engine finally giving up
the heave and rumble settling to stillness
and we think of the door frame, the extra studs
the heavy header, the metal reinforcement
and the pre-dawn tremblor that time at Disney
land when she was 4 and didn't even wake
her voice vibrates in our bones a constant wave
the overriding harmonic resonance
we remember when she was born, the minute,
hour, and day, the fog clinging to the ground
the feeling of release how our breath becomes
the sky, the brightest blue on this afternoon
unveiled after days of gray shades, clouds and rain
We Take Our Grief Outside
The day after our daughter passed,
the orange blossoms appeared, instant,
all at once their scent everywhere
like a shout or siren fixed.
Her body on its way to ashes
as the bees congregated
unseen but heard, their humming hymn
underlining the white flowers.
Loosed from our hospital vigil,
we sat in silence with the trees,
their green leaves, their secret shadows
between broad leaves, their white stars,
still and silent promises.
We breathed the redolent air
until it was just air again,
the sweetness retracted in blooms,
in dark inter leaf spaces.
The bees' low hymns subsided,
a sound as invisible
as the medical noises
shaping her hospital room.
the orange blossoms appeared, instant,
all at once their scent everywhere
like a shout or siren fixed.
Her body on its way to ashes
as the bees congregated
unseen but heard, their humming hymn
underlining the white flowers.
Loosed from our hospital vigil,
we sat in silence with the trees,
their green leaves, their secret shadows
between broad leaves, their white stars,
still and silent promises.
We breathed the redolent air
until it was just air again,
the sweetness retracted in blooms,
in dark inter leaf spaces.
The bees' low hymns subsided,
a sound as invisible
as the medical noises
shaping her hospital room.
|
Cecil MorrisCecil Morris wiles away his retirement---after 37 years of teaching high school English!---reading, writing, and riding the bike that doesn’t move through scenery of podcasts and boredom. Having lived most of his life in the wide and presently arid Central Valley of California, he likes to escape to ocean beaches. He continues to favor the bright colors he wore in order to stand out on school field trips. He has poems appearing in Cobalt Review, Ekphrastic Review, English Journal, Evening Street Review, Hole in the Head Review, Talking River Review, and other literary magazines
|