Greetings, Poetry Lovers!
Fall is beautiful, and my favorite season, but it does have somber undertones.
This past Tuesday would have been my mother-in-law's birthday; Jeff's mother, Marge, died early last year. (And then my father-in-law, Reuben, died this summer.)
Tuesday evening, we remembered Marge with a key lime pie from Publix (one of her favorite treats), and some grocery store flowers with pink roses. She liked to wear pink, and looked lovely in it with her blue eyes.
So I've been thinking a bit about grief, and how haiku is so perfectly suited for it, with its understated expression and wabi-sabi aesthetic. Some of my poems written during the last few months of Marge's life, and published shortly thereafter, offered space for those difficult feelings.
first frost
today she misplaced
our names
Frogpond 42:1 Winter 2019
waning crescent
each day she slips
farther away
Frogpond Vol. 42:2, Spring/Summer 2019
cold house
the children in the pictures
divide the pictures
bottle rockets #42, Feb. 2020
poems ©Robyn Hood Black
These poems aren't really about Marge of course – poems about her would be lively, and musical, and laced with a wicked wit. But I suppose they offered places for me to pause along the journey.
Here's another one which I wrote this week, less bleak.
new moon
we still hear her
in the music
©Robyn Hood Black
True, a new moon has lost its light. But only briefly, right? The cycle always starts over again.
And again and again. We remember Marge's light. And her light shines even more brightly this Thursday evening, I'll bet, as our nephew and his wife just welcomed their second baby into the world. Marge adored babies, especially her grandchildren and great-grandchildren!
Wishing you comfort if you are facing the holidays without someone you love this year; and wishing everyone a good – simple, small, safe - Thanksgiving.
Change of plans re. hosting: Our amazing Linda Baie is jumping in to round up everyone at Teacher Dance. Thanks, Linda!