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.

[sparkle]

wow , great work , I am sorry about your father , I like everything about your poem , it's a brilliant one , once again , great work .. :)

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you so much!

[Angi]

It sounds like your mom didn't know if he would be like a storm or a calm day when he arrived home. I picture her on eggshells. The word, 'harbinger' always makes me think bad things are to come. I am glad you explained the yellow eyes. I like the wolf analogy...even tame...a wolf is still a wolf. My own father died from complications of cirrhosis and liver cancer. I may be reading into this more doom than you intended. That is only because my own experiences have colored this for me. Angi~

[Sarah Khalil]

I'd say more doom than intended, but not more than what's there. It's all quite true that you never really knew what his days would be like because of it, but he was the most fantastic man all the same. This poem is based on a single moment when someone was coming through the door the front door the other day and the sound of the keys was just precisely, heart stoppingly the same sound. And there's the split second when you expect him to walk in before you catch yourself, and it's like that unstoppers this flood of emotions, this whole story behind it. My father was my primary muse, and continues to be so in death. Thanks for your thoughts :)

[Emily Rose]

This is a beautiful, tragic poem.

[Sarah Khalil]

Thank you, I'm always thankful when I can channel all that into poetry. I wouldn't know what to do otherwise.