My mother died a year ago this week. I’ve commemorated the final four days I spent with her in several different ways, alone and in the company of friends and family, starting with flowers on her grave. Her headstone makes me smile; it’s a note she jotted on her way home, ending with her initials.
And then there’s the odd little poem that came to me on Wednesday. It’s an elegy of sorts, for this week’s Poetry Jam prompt, and a Friday Flash 55. May your weekend bless you.
Freedom, In Other Words
To celebrate my mother’s death
one year ago today
I went to a shop and tried on
tight dresses
imagining myself
reading poems
to Pablo Neruda in his dotage
wondering
would he want me
and my poems
to stay the night
if I were
wearing this?
Something about my mother
being gone
has turned me
loose.
36 comments:
Your mother reminds me so much of Amelia Earhart in looks!
She obviously set you free in many ways, Chris, and no matter what the past held, it's the present that is our present.
On one hand, the passing of my mother gave me some much needed freedom. On the other, I lost a part of me.
And I wouldn't doubt that your mother would enjoy the way you commemorated her death! Sounds healthy to me.(It is never easy, is it?)
Spunky and unique. I love the twist at the end.
a rather playful poem to commemorate the day...i am sure pablo would appreciate...smiles.
Chris...
I Remember when your Mom died.
A Wonderful Celebration!!!
I Loved your 55 My Friend.
Thanks for playing this week
I'm Honored...
Have a Kick Ass Week-End
I love that poem and the imaging it brings me.
I believe Neruda would have wanted your company for the night, no matter what your clothing style.
No doubt!
The last sentence struck me as, "Wow! That is sort of how I felt when My mother 'Gone Home', ready finally to fly with the big birds confidently, and gratefully"!
PEACE! ...and THANKS.
All the very best to you Chris.
Lovely. Freeing.
I am glad she is at peace, and that you find some peace even though you have lost her, in this life, at least.
A lovely picture..thanks, Chris.
Any lifting of care. concern and burden is freedom from that care, concern and burden and in that there is a path to freedom of spirit.
You are amazing. To come up with that poem out of your deepest sorrow, shows you how you have grown and shifted and done the time. So proud of you, even tho' I don't know you at all, I understand. You touched my heart. Be blessed. xx
Beautiful, Chris...Wishing you peace.
It's weird that it has been a year already. So much has happened but it still seems not that long ago. :)
I'm glad you're spending time remembering your mother and honoring her. I'm also glad she's found her freedom and is home.
I love your poem. It's brave to talk about the freedom we feel after the sad event of losing our parents. After my good folks had departed, I felt free to write more honestly, and experienced other forms of lightness that I wasn't expecting.
One day I was waiting for a bus. I looked around my yard at the weeds and old pieces of wood and concrete lying there, and thought, Things not done, things not done, things not done. . . Then I thought of my mother, safe at last, and with deep satisfaction, I thought. . . Things done.
Grief and wonder. . . mixing it up in the miraculous human heart.
Julie
Sorry to hear of your loss. When you're growing up, you think your parents will live forever. Shocking when a parent dies young...and young to me means less than 85 since I work with sr. citizens.
Here's a hug. x
I enjoy every poem you write about your Mother ..... this one especially.
I felt a bit set free too, when my mom died. I certainly felt released from that particular location in the world (no offense to my dad who still lives there). But I'm pretty sure I would have wanted to tell my mom about the night I spent with Pablo Neruda. :)
Oh I know that loose feeling! I loved my Mum but I did sometimes feel I couldn't really be me with her around (and maybe she felt the same). It is the strangest bond!
x
I know that feeling of feeling free and now wearing life like a loose garment. The dress may be tight but the spirit is free and easy.
It can be read in many ways. I lost my dad 9 years ago. I still feel dislocated or completely free, depending on my mood...
other shoe
This affected my deeply.
Nice poem. I love the power of the feminine that is present here. I sort of hate to comment on particulars of poems, but I'm trying to find a way to do it anyway. The poem works and that's a great thing.
I like it...following your mom's footsteps is indeed liberating.
You have turned your grief into a celebration.
Uncanny..!!
Only late last night I was talking to some one about my mom's death. For over 15 years I didn't mourn!
I did that the last year though..
It does sets us free indeed!
Peace n Love
Sunday Hugs xox
sad and beautiful.
I really like this.
Interesting - tight dresses, yet turning loose.
:)
Sparkling originality, as usual. What a great way to look at death!
wow what a wonderful tribute ~ can't think of a better way ~ turned loose ~ love that line ~ lost my Dad last year it is so hard ~ warm hgs Lib
beautiful image btw on yur pae I could look at it for hours ~ Lib
Great poem. I think your mom would like it!
Your life and remembrance of your wonderful mother is lovely tribute to her.
She may be free however she is alive in your remembrances and words. Not a day passes without me speaking about my mom, or repeating something she taught me.
Beautiful tribute and I love the words on her stone.
Dear K, I published it as it was what I have to hold on to at the moment. I guess when we are challenged by others perceptions and their reality it is hard to not take anything personally or to be impeccable with our thoughts and words! Hence I posted this reminder not only to uplift, but to empower. I am so glad you stopped by. My mantra at the moment is 'I can only change myself, I can only change myself...' and so on. I am glad that you said that as today is one of those hard ones! and I needed to hear that. So we have both been touched. Big hug to you and remember, one day at a time and you cannot change them, cure them and you certainly did not cause their reality. xx
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