Aubade
Aubade
He died early enough
that there was time
for crying in the room
and listening to crying
before dawn shelled the
blinds, light cracking through the breaks
of tar and brick,
cobblestone and horizon, hill
and blue,
and though they were now done
with the hospital, they went once more
to the cafeteria, remarking as before
on the surprise of the food,
sitting down at a table shined
by window, before truly scrambled eggs,
which are not actually synonymous
with morning yet were
in their sunny warmth some link
to the ongoing availability
of goodness, murmured
about the wonder
of his life,
sad,
grateful.
**********************
Here’s an aubade for Real Toads ‘Play it again, Sam’ prompt, hosted by Margaret Bednar, original post by Grace.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: aubade, death before dawn, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, manicddaily, ongoing goodness
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ManicDDaily 
July 2, 2017 at 11:37 am
scrambled eggs,
which are not actually synonymous
with morning yet were
in their sunny warmth some link
to the ongoing availability
of goodness
These lines are just amazing, Karin, and carry the message of morning so clearly. How the goodness of the eggs carries the mourners from death to life. Such a moving piece.
July 2, 2017 at 11:46 am
Thank so much, Kerry. k.
July 2, 2017 at 12:23 pm
i’m speechless on the understated poignancy of this piece. food and death plated together. ugh
July 2, 2017 at 12:31 pm
Thanks. k.
July 2, 2017 at 2:34 pm
Truly a mourning morning… a consolation in the scrambled eggs.. also the image of the hospital room with those blinds… really special
July 2, 2017 at 9:30 pm
thanks, Bjorn.
July 2, 2017 at 4:48 pm
Words aren’t enough to describe just how incredibly touching this poem is!
July 2, 2017 at 9:31 pm
thanks, Sanaa. k.
July 3, 2017 at 4:09 am
And so the harrowed becomes hallowed, through the longest night, on the other side where the day comes almost mockingly. But to narrow the music to the color of eggs — a simple, warm, living gold–is just the right grace note, “the availability of goodness,” as the living remember the lost, and give thanks. Trim and supple treatment of a night we all must endure. We thank you for showing the way through.
July 3, 2017 at 12:35 pm
Thanks so much, Brendan. Hope your cat has turned up! k.
July 3, 2017 at 12:24 pm
Oh Karin! This really is an amazing poem, I adore it. The cafeteria food at hospital… yes! It *does* amaze and why is that? I have often thought it has to be some kind of sign, some kind of something that you have managed to touch upon here. I love your writing and am super-glad to read this morning. xo
July 3, 2017 at 12:36 pm
So very kind of you, Marian. I really do appreciate your kind words and thoughtfulness–this has been such a tough year (as I know you know.) Take care, k.