“The Other Shore, From Various Angles”
The lovely picture above is a digital artwork/photo by Walter W. Smith, and part of dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt, hosted by Sheila Moore today. It was the inspiration for my draft poem below.
The Other Shore, From Various Angles
When my first dog died,
by freak accident,
I didn’t know how to reach her.
I sent letters finally
through the “D” volume of
my Junior Britannica, as if its bright red
spine bound a path to
another shore, as if my dog
could read there.
Sometime later, when
my grandma died, after
a fall and a day’s hard suffering,
I found her in dreams. She would sit
before me in the eyelid of a school bus where
I’d see again the kindness of
her profile, soft chin
sloping to unjudgmental neck. I would
be desperate to speak to her, but
would avert face, tears, certain they
were markers that this was not, in fact,
her bus, and would banish her
once more.
The ashes of her daughter, Val–at least
a portion–we started sifting
into the sea by palmfuls.
The ash of bone
is so much heavier than the ash of tree
that one expects it to sink instantly. But
these did not sink, floating instead, as
a second briny foam,
till I, now adult, now mother,
felt pushed to step out far, to throw
out hard, the thick flesh of my thighs prickling with
deep salt cold, so that the powdered grey scud
could not wash back, but would be carried
out to sea and sparkling surface.
I don’t know why
this seemed so important–
except that hers was a life that had grown painful
at the end, painful
for a very long time, and already she
had been marked by hurt brain, hurt
body, someone who had never truly known
her own sufficiency–and I somehow did not want
those ashes straggling back to this,
our landlocked shore, to be stepped upon or
through, caught idly,
cast back.
(All rights reserved. The below is an old watercolor of mine, which actually depicts my grandmother on that dream bus.)
Tags: manicddaily, poem about ashes, poem about handicapped person's death, poem about lost dog and grandmother, poem about reaching out in death, Walter W. Smith digital art
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ManicDDaily 
March 3, 2012 at 6:06 pm
smiles..great progression in this k…sending messages through the D volume…nice…the eye lids of buses…and then the walking out to the deep so they dont wash back…i like….
March 3, 2012 at 9:27 pm
Beautiful verse, manicddaily! Being demised is a total cut-off. We need not have ‘those ashes straggling back’ to those who are still around. Worst if ‘these are stepped on’ We only need remember the wonderful memories that often bring back tears and not anger! Well thought off!
Hank
March 3, 2012 at 11:26 pm
beautiful indeed…the reverence and respect is palpable here
“unjudgmental neck” …felt
Peace ☮
March 4, 2012 at 12:00 am
oh wow, that last part about why it was so important to you that the ashes did not come back to shore was so very powerful. brought tears to my eyes. Simply beautiful and heart-felt, K.
March 4, 2012 at 3:53 am
in the eyelid of a school bus… love the images you use here..the yearning to message them…to see and talk to them one more time…def. lots of tight emotions in this..a powerful piece k.
March 4, 2012 at 4:41 am
till I, now adult, now mother,
felt pushed to step out far, to throw
out hard, the thick flesh of my thighs prickling with
deep salt cold, so that the powdered grey scud
could not wash back, but would be carried
out to sea and sparkling surface.
I don’t know why
this seemed so important–
And important to the poem too, I think. A beautiful, compelling passage, that I felt bound to read several times. A fine, strong poem, but nothing finer or stronger than this.
March 4, 2012 at 10:14 am
Very very powerul poem. Many memorable lines, vignettes: writing letters to your dog in the encyclopedia, the concluding scene of your aunt and her ashes. You’ve provided such a diverse picture of time and space so that rhe feeling of completeness at the end is coherently achieved with maximum emotional and reflective force. By force, I mean that power that brings to awareness in the reader a deeper, more compelling sense of awareness and understanding of life.
March 4, 2012 at 10:26 am
Thanks so much for your exceedingly kind comment. K.