poem: Doorways

for my cousin Todd, on the day of his interment at Woodstock

Growing up...

     we all caught lightning bugs

  and deposited them in Mason jars

             to use as lanterns.

We always thought we

        were rich, beyond words

    with the most beautiful light in the world.

 

And the rain came softly

     with a half-turned shoulder, in the doorway

  bag packed

        "Mama, which way is East?

      I have a journey to take."

Then there was thundersong

          with angry rain

    Hendrix's guitar blaring crimson chords

as Bonham's drums kept time.

 

A beckon call

     of the type

we hold ourtselves powerless

           to refuse.

 

When we looked up in our sorrow

    we saw a line of purple shimmering

and drawn at the Western horizon

       but an achingly empty space at that doorway.

 

Our only explanation

       a note

    handwritten in the feathery strokes

           of a cirrus cloud

  "I am sorry," it read,

         "but we decided

                his kindness was more needed

here, in the East."

 

for the ancients always said Heaven is to the East.

    from whence the new morning dawns.

 

But at sunset, when those empty shapes

      loom emptiest

            we should remember the gifts.

    If we each catch memories,

          like those floating orbs of our childhood

                  dancing

to the tunes of passed heroes

         and aging rockstars

    the jar we fill now

        can light our own way through all future doorways

   in all worlds we must travel

until we meet again.

 

And what, we ask, could possibly be greater

     than that all-star show

on a warm summer night

         where fireflies danced in soft rains?

  

              

Reviews

[zainul]

You described so nicely about you and Todd in this piece.
Love the following stanza:
"We always thought we

were rich, beyond words

with the most beautiful light in the world."
Yea,you were really rich and you still are quite rich.
Wonderful write.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Zainul... he was like a brother to me growing up. I tried to recapture that in this. Thanks for taking the time to stop by.

[zainul]

I feel that he is my brother too.
You perfectly offered your love to him through this piece.read moreI feel that he is my brother too.
You perfectly offered your love to him through this piece.
Thanks again for sharing.

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

So many images, all tied firmly together with your masterful prose. I am glad you celebrate your Cousin. Love is all there is.

[Mary]

Beautiful tribute to Todd. Hint of sadness, journey to the East. Nothing more to say.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Mary. I know you understand all the levels of meaning in this.

[Emily B]

oooh, this is perfect, soft and warm

[Marie Anzalone]

thank you Emily. it was a year ago we lost him, and it still hurts

[Emily B]

i remember it well

[Poetic Beauty]

This is stunning and beautiful. It is hopeful and only hints at sadness. It makes me feel like I slowly drifting watching the scenes unfold

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Poetic. I do not know a form harder to write than the eulogy- and yes, you are right. I was trying to honor the lingering sadness over someone taken way too young (my age) with, hopefully, a sense of higher purpose and of the eternal in life.

[Poetic Beauty]

you did that very well. IT is one of the most beautiful passing pieces I have read.