'I feel that I'm the prey,
But I don't know whose,'
from Hunt in Time
'You were so lovely,
Almost translucent - '
and
'Time builds up in the soul
Like an hourglass, with falling grains of sand,
Each one born from the thoughts, the sparks,
That you
Constantly weave,'
from Requiem
Requiem is the one which means the most to me in the collection. It is a series of 12 poems.
When my grandmother died my oldest son, then only 5, discussed the name on the head stone with me. We agreed that it was like details in a phone book, only with no phone number, because no phone call were possible.
When my grandfather died I thought that he'd been the roof on my house (as if I were a building), because I knew he prayed for all of us. I assumed that feeling would disappear after he'd died. It never has.
Having seen so much of my grandparents, I didn't fight against their deaths, because they were in me anyway. We had had years and years together. Their changing ways as they got more frail didn't bother me either, it all seemed part of the whole story. Maybe I was protected from most of the hard parts. That must be it.
No comments:
Post a Comment