Thanks for reading this thread.
My 70 year old aunt is currently fighting for her life in a local hospital. Any prayers or good vibes (I'm religious, but she's not) you could offer
on her behalf would be very appreciated.
She's had a hard life.
About 20 years ago, she was very active in the local poetry scene
She wrote and self-published a lovely little leather bound book of verses which
have served as my connection to her since I am not allowed to visit (my vaxx status). Her poems are sad but show a depth of feeling that, in my
opinion, makes poetry worth reading.
I'd like to share a couple of her poems with you--the first and the last of her volume.
Finally, I urge you not to wait. Say what you want to say now, follow those dreams, book those tickets, learn that skill, and enjoy life and all those
you've been blessed with
Pieta
Got to see it when I was half his age
masterpiece of a twenty-four year old Michelangelo
Twenty-four when he conceived and
carved it out of cold Carrara marble.
Lines were long at that World's Fair
Other cultures on display
though only superficially
Sexier , high-techier exhibits
But lines were constantly long for the Pieta
on loan from the Vatican
Is that what drew me
for the second or third time
from Futurama?
Futurama it has cars of tomorrow and vision phones
But no real need for ET to call home
No we had it all and
it was only going to get better
And now many years later I see
that of all the optimistic, futuristic visions of a future
only
he got it right
In all the presents and all the pasts
the only thing that really lasts
is that a mother translucent transparent
within the marble
will always be asked to clasp a
dying child to her empty breast
In Kosovo Rwanda Bosnia Northern Ireland Palestine
I can see her now she's right down the road
anguished grief-stricken
blind to anything but her own pain
Of all the predictions that I heard or saw
at that upbeat, early sixties World's Fair
Michelangelo was the only seer that got it right
Mothers loved ones screaming into a night
of hatred prejudice war games
righteousness of those on top
rage of them at the bottom
and subsequent death
Pieta! Sorrow of the soul
sorrow of the all too human soul
Scales vary I know I know
but there will always be one individual Pieta
View the Pieta in all its beauty
all its horror
not yesterday not tomorrow
It is now
-Jeanne A
(this was written in the wake of a local but infamous tragedy--Columbine)
Solstice Blues
Listen
Something's leaving
Quiet
Sneaking away
Is it man or beast?
Thought or hope?
Tin or paper?
It goes.
The sky was inhabited this evening
by shades of mauve and gray.
Majestic and meaningful.
But something or someone had left.
And the sky was left lonesome
Lonesome listening lost one
Silence - sole reply.
Things go all the time now,
people and places change so fast
You get more in a lifetime that way, true
But then
Something or someone's always
Slipping out of sight
Slipping away.
Face the fadeout
Accept the change
It's good for you
Things have to change to grow
Just - listen
As the old things go.