fog of your breath on rainy windowpanes
as you etched your name,
that line right there. I've never lost someone to suicide - only to the monsters of disease and the ticking clock. We are all wired differently - some of it is hard wiring and some - factory second work due to upbringing - the wear and tear of this difficult life on a soul not designed for so much pain...what ever it is - for me personally and what made this poem worm its way down to the place where I ache - is this: for me life presents itself, memory presents itself in the smallest of moments. I remember the exact color and shape of my dad's lips as he read me bedtime stories, when we lived in KS (I was five when we moved to AR) life continues residually in pictures, in songs, phrases, words - and you have captured this with such heartwrenching eloquence. That you can bring this back to the surface with such raw emotion and articulate the beauty in these moments - that is brave. some of us writers - we don't ever get past the rage - we are cynical and toxic. You aren't. The light as others have said just flows from you and your words.
The personal pain you share here is also universal for everyone who has suffered a loss. It is so beautiful and touching that you share your love for your sister so openly. Frieda, poetry aims to make the reader think, and feel, and possibly even act. This poem brought tears, and memories... and makes me long to hold my dear ones close. (((hugs))) and love to you, my friend.
such a great love ..so defined our pain :(((((( love and all the hug i can muster ... big kisses for your cheeks ... and hands extended Frieda .. my dear friend :}
E.
I ' ve seem to come and a little late to this offering but they say better late than never. I think that I am not required to say much, this offering made me feel humble. At times I look into writings with such intellectual endevour as if to find something( I am not even sure what I am trying to find) but I know that when I find it I may help to view an angle that the writer maybe hadn't seen before. This only requires from me to read it and to let you know from this distance from someone that is not very good at relating that it made me feel sorry. I hope things get better.
You know how much I feel for this poem. When you showed it to me in email you made me bawl. Reading it again it has the same affect. You touch me each time you write about Lee, I feel like I know her and I like that. I know that you keep her alive but writing about her and for her. She is gorgeous just like you. You guys are so alike. Mama F, beyond beautiful truly, I mean that........xo
She is gorgeous, as was this poem. It doesn't always have to be painful to remember those who are gone, it can be a sweet, spiritual experience as well, one to cherish as though you are still sitting, chatting with her. You illustrate this quite well. People are never completely gone as long as they live on in our hearts.
I miss your sunshine- yep Freida its hard to forget someone you want to remeber all the time.. Lee was gorgeous. Its hard not to recall the shared moments. Each memory will always be etched in the heart forever.. I will only say tears are flowing down my eyes as i miss my sis too :(.:.. touché... xoxo... warm hug sweety. I know its hard but you can make it through. ★takecare★
I know I should have weighed in on this one sooner love, but there were two things I had to overcome before I could properly address it: first I had to gather my thoughts and take a deep breath cuz I have not been able to read this since last night without shedding tears, and I've tried a few times...the second thing I had to overcome was the thing that makes me wonder why I still both with this place sometimes...this place is becoming increasingly nauseating in its penchant for self-indulgent and self-centered drama...do me a favour and slap me on the head if I ever start sounding like some of these people...
I read this for the first time last night as you know, and as I have said, it truly tears my heart out when I hear these stories and read these works...this is a phenomenon that you've brought up many times...people mistake you for her...some say you sound like her on the phone, some actually think they see her when they catch you coming around a corner or what not...I don't know love, but for me, there is something there, something significant that I just can't explain except to make one big and unequivocal statement: she lives on in your writing, and I think she lives on in your physical presence a little bit too...I don't know how you feel about hearing that...maybe it's unsettling, or maybe it sounds ridiculous, but she definitely lives on in your writing if nothing else...it's still hard for me to address the poem itself, I've been very much in sensitive mode the last little while as you know, but what you do for Lee's spirit is incredible...a smile like that is immortal, and you remind us of it regularly with some of the best poetry I've ever read anywhere...if you're not the best poets on the site, I don't know who is...xo
fog of your breath on rainy windowpanes
as you etched your name,
that line right there. I've never lost someone to suicide - only to the monsters of disease and the ticking clock. We are all wired differently - some of it is hard wiring and some - factory second work due to upbringing - the wear and tear of this difficult life on a soul not designed for so much pain...what ever it is - for me personally and what made this poem worm its way down to the place where I ache - is this: for me life presents itself, memory presents itself in the smallest of moments. I remember the exact color and shape of my dad's lips as he read me bedtime stories, when we lived in KS (I was five when we moved to AR) life continues residually in pictures, in songs, phrases, words - and you have captured this with such heartwrenching eloquence. That you can bring this back to the surface with such raw emotion and articulate the beauty in these moments - that is brave. some of us writers - we don't ever get past the rage - we are cynical and toxic. You aren't. The light as others have said just flows from you and your words.
If you want to know me, read my poetry, it's all in there. I am a mother of three sons (my finest moments) a sister, a survivor and a little bit crazy. I lost my beloved sister to suicide, so you'll.. more..