Keys

A different way to be:

Ignore the clinking keys

so lightly waving in the air

Ignore the leaping heart, despaired.

The keys don't open doors to go

to Heaven above, to Hell below.

Those keys once belonged to him,

chiming sweetly, heralding in.

There would be days when he came back

with temper livid, emotions black;

some days, he would bubble blue

blue summer sky: a happy hue.

Cheeks tinged pink against yellow eyes,

a wolf, but tame: a smile a surprise.

All color and manner of life would be

reflected in the dance of those silver keys.

I keep expecting him now to walk through the door

and say “I'm here!” Back from the store.

The jovial jangle a harbinger of he

with whom I once shared a destiny.

May 28, 2013

Author's Note

This is a poem about my father, who died on December 6th, 2012, from the perspective of my mother.

If you're wondering if the wolf imagery is random and just there to fit with an equally random image of yellow eyes, it's not. My father suffered from cirrhosis so the whites of his eyes were, in fact, yellow. In a previous short story of mine (which I may or may not post here some day) that I wrote quite a few years ago about him, I used the same simile when describing his eyes. It fits. He was like a wolf in every terrible, wonderful, awe-inspiring way.

This is being submitted for the "Tragedy, Sorrow, and Loss" competition.

Reviews

[Chris]

Without reading your Author's note (first) - I understood the loss ...even felt it was a father inside.

You BOTH have my condolences - not out of a sense of pity... but from understanding and sharing loss. You have kept his memory vibrant and real... you've honored him and grown as he would have been proud to see.

You take care miss.

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you so much for your wonderful review, and apologies for the late response! You're very sweet.

[Guilt]

I'm going to commit a crime here and say something that is probably overused. This is amazing. It made me think of my own father, and the rattling of his keys at the door. I'm sure everyone thinks of this with their own dad, and that is why this poem is so powerful. It uses this simple idea to draw every fathered child into a position where we can briefly experience a realistic loss.
Reminds me of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, when, after Earth is destroyed, the protagonist couldn't react emotionally until he realised cheeseburgers wouldnt't exist. It's the little things that kill us when they're gone. And you have used what could be the perfect little thing for every child with and without a father. This is truly amazing. Your talent is something he would be proud of.

Although small, this says so much more in the heart than in the words. An absolute gem, and now a favourite.

- Guilt

[Sarah Khalil]

Oh my goodness, your comment is overwhelming. I'm speechless by your kind words. Thank you so much, I'm beyond ecstatic that you found this amazing.

[plainme]

The instant I started reading this it reminded me of a short story I'm currently working on. It would match the thoughts of one of the characters almost perfectly. Then I read your note and the tone changed a bit, well, the idea behind the ideas in the poem, if I can put it that way, changed, but it still seems relevant to me. I like the fact that things that might at first sight appear as pure imagery have a real truth to them!

[Sarah Khalil]

The image itself is a story. The instinctive behavioral response, the unconscious expectancy of your husband walking through the door because the keys clinking together sounds just like him coming home - that's years and years of hearing that noise every day and knowing what to expect afterwards. A life, a story, like a circle, is made up of an infinite amount of smaller points, and each point can be broken into smaller points. This single point in time - the breath stealing out of your chest as you remember he won't come in right after that split second of unconsciously expecting it, something that isn't even a thought but involuntary light a heartbeat - is made up of all the other points of a life before it, the points when he came home carried on the noise of those keys, and the points after he passed away when he never did.

[SyberRose]

So sorry for your loss dear... an appropriate poem for the contest for sure..thank you for sharing...Rose

[Sarah Khalil]

Thanks so much for your review, Rose :)

[Frieda P]

Bittersweet reminiscing on this page. I don't have a relationship with my father but this still touched my heart, nicely pen'd.

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you very much :)

[Frieda P]

My pleasure Sarah :-)

[quinfinn]

seems a life time is printed on this page , along with several declarations of fondness and affection for the dearly loved and badly missed. i lost my father in 2006.....august 17th....missed him by 2 minutes, i was coming over from work...it leaves a gaping hole in one's life. well penned, my new friend.

[Sarah Khalil]

We actually came to live in Lebanon in 2006, so that year also has a significance to me - it's a bit like the beginning of the story this poem tells, as he got ill after we came here (at least, noticeably so).

You say it seems as though it's a lifetime, and to be honest, it's the end of a very, very long chapter out of my life, and is the very end of my father's, and the denouement of my mother's. Thank you for your review.

[quinfinn]

my pleasure....

[WillowWhisper]

This is so beautiful and sad, but I'm sure you already knew that. The imagery you used is so vivid and powerful. I keep picturing the waiting without really meaning to, the looking expectantly at the door with hope, and having my heart ripped a bit more when no one showed and the door stayed shut.
His switch-up swinging of emotions sounds like it would have kept your mother on edge, tip-toeing around in life. I certainly know what that's like and it can be very difficult to deal with but this,
"All color and manner of life would be
reflected in the dance of those silver keys."
this is powerful. To me it's a way of acknowledging that although it may have been tough he was a person and therefore had the right to be as switch-up swinging as he pleased (even if it wasn't something he really did out of choice) and be both accepted and loved for it. You did an amazing job.

[Sarah Khalil]

Your reviews have literally made my entire day, thank you. This poem was so easy to write, as easy as picking up a pen and writing it, and I find myself to be immensely pleased that it resonates to such a large extent. Thanks for reading :)

[WillowWhisper]

You're very welcome, thank you for posting such awesomeness.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Such a sad piece, and filled with so much emotion. You've written a piece here that is worthy of note, my friend. I love the imagery and the idea of "jingling keys", because that is just the sort of thing that someome would notice when someone is suddenly gone. We don't notice the little things until we don't have them anymore. Well done.

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you for the delightful review. :)

[Keith]

I love this poem, the sound of keys on th other side of the door spark anticipation as to mood when they come through. Great work.

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you. It's never the keys you'd expect to trigger such a strong reaction, but it's literally a conditioned behavior that you have to overcome when things change.

[Kashif Waqas Ramay]

marvelous write, it is the way it should be....
may his soul rest inn peace in heaven...

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you so much, I hope so as well.