Father Land

It’s that autumn time of year,
when things curl into themselves,
when clouds open eyes to tear,
and pictures stare from the shelves.

You are yet a dream to be,
undisclosed within the dust.
As they left you, you left me, *
in a ball of flames combust.

The season fell; the snow fell.
My heart fell into the wood.
My tears fell into the well
of the last of my girlhood.

Seasons come and seasons go.
A ghost of guilt holds my hand.
The rain falls on Father Joe
who sleeps deep in Father Land.

*  When my father was a young boy, his mother and father died within three months of one another, leaving him to be raised by an older brother.

Author's Note

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I love the way your poem suggests how some ancient family tragedy can filter down thru the ages, somewhat tainting the way everything else unfolds later on. I love how your expressions of heartbreak are fresh & simple & repetitive, reflecting the mood of the memory referred to. I always wondered what it would be like to NOT have such a family history that's weighting down the bloodline!?!? *sigh!* fondly, Margie

[Robert Trakofler]

And the sheen of his prodigy glows so strongly from your inkwell... the blood of his heart gently coursing her hands pen strokes to resonate in his living treasure his daughter of whom gives his life a stride to furtherance in adorations compositions voice dear Linda

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

O! Such sweet words you whisper into my ear.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Linda Marie... you have so eloquently penned
a poem that touches me deeply. Your Father was a self-made man
who had a lot to balance before embarking on a family life.
I am certain that his older brother did the best he could.
Lovely to share this in poetry as it helps you also to adjust
when you know that we feel your mourning and will support you
by being here for you. truly, Pat

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Pat. 😊.

[Patricia Wedel]

You are welcome Linda Marie.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Such poignant and palpable grief delicately woven into your words. Well written.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Fabian. It's been a long time since I've seen you, and I am happy you are here.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Thank you. Yes, parenthood comes with many distractions but they are distractions worth taking time for. Poetry is my passion but compared to my children, it's just a wisp of creative smoke. :) Glad to spend a bit of time visiting though.

[drew garner]

At first, I thought it would be disrespectful to write about this objectively. But it is one of your better pieces of writing and felt it should be said.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you. I have never written about my father in a disrespectful way. My words are a form of worship and adoration.

[drew garner]

no, no, I was saying it would be disrespectful of me to write about the poem because it was so personal. But I did feel the need to tell you it was really good. and the adoration comes across in the words for people who didn't know him that is why I thought it worked so well.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I'm sorry that I misread the intent. :-) Thank you for the clarification.

[drew garner]

Your welcome

[Crowley]

Ohhh my, this gave me goosebumps. The picture, the thought and emotion, the attachment that never breaks. Great title and that last stanza stings a bit but is perfectly presented. Loved it!!!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you. This my small way of keeping him alive.

[Samuel Dickens]

I looked first at the photo and thought, "He's a pretty good artist. I'll bet his proud parents urged him to sit for that." Having become serious about art when I was 13, I felt a kinship. Oh, but there's so much more to it than I got from seeing a photo. After reading your sensitive words, my heart now aches for the life run short and for those left behind.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I always love it when you visit, Samuel. I look at his photo, the paintings, the eagle and cars on the shelf behind him, and I feel both sadness and anger. Of course I'm sad that he's unobtainable to me; but I grew up seeing that eagle and cars sitting on a shelf and never realized that they belonged to him. I don't know what my mother did with them and the only things that I have of him are a few pictures, a scrap of obituary, and the memory of finding him in an unmarked grave. I purchased the marker for his grave but feel he deserved so much more. Thank you for taking the time to read and share.

[Samuel Dickens]

I failed to mention the cars, but did see them. Your father in that setting appears so familiar and is not unlike most boys from years past. He and I would probably have had much to talk about. I'm so glad you got him a grave maker, How very sad that he didn't have one.

[Eilis]

I have a photo like this that has sat on my nightstand for many years. Hurts my heart to look at yours and connect it with your words because I understand what it means.

My biological father has kept his distance from me most of my life, but I did have a step-father briefly who brought a father’s love into my life before he died suddenly and very young. When I surpassed him in age it was a wrenching moment and it took me a few years to come to terms with that. When his biological son surpassed him in age, that was even harder. I’m not sure why.

The things that we experience when we are young seem to have a way of carrying with us. Especially when we had so little power or understanding at the time of their occurring. It becomes part of everything and everything seems to become an exercise in working it out.

This poem is so poignant. You’ve managed to condense such feeling and context into a short space and make it possible to both relate and understand the powerful impact of loss.

A brave and touching poem..

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Eilis. I have multiple works in progress, but they were all pushed to the side yesterday. The cold and rainy morning just put me in this space, and the poem was wrought in its gray. I have no memories of him whatsoever and very few pictures. I never had any other father figures in my life so it's something that has always been missing in my life. While I am glad that you can relate, I am sorry that you had to experience what you did as well. Our parents are our foundation; and when that foundation has cracks in it, we spend a lifetime patching it up. Thank you for reading and sharing with me.

[Beccy]

I have never known such loss; would never wish to as melancholy and the celebration of a loved one make for difficult bedfellows. In the end though, at least, I believe it so, that despite, as Christine observes, life is a fragile thing, the human spirit wins out.

Like I said, I have never know such loss, but I can feel it in these lines.

Beccy.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

You are lucky, Becky. For some people, all they have known is loss. My heart broke yesterday seeing a picture of this man in Pakistan. On average, they earn $60 a month in Pakistan so most of the people in his area take their children to see this one pediatrician, who charged twenty cents per visit. During one visit, he objected when the doctor was digging through the trash trying to find a used syringe. The doctor told him if he didn't like it to take his son to another doctor. Now, over 1,200 children have been diagnosed with AIDS. The man pictured had already lost two of his children. One was 14 months old, the other 3 or 4 years old. He has four children left, and two of them have been diagnosed with AIDS. Due to the lack of education, most parents and relatives are fearful that they can catch it and refuse to be near the children. So, not only do they have a death sentence over their heads, the children are being ostracized and shunned. Parents won't hug them or touch them and relatives won't go near them. I have known loss, yes; but others have known it on a much greater scale. No matter how bad you think you have it, someone else always has it worse.

[Chris Shaw]

These lines are filled with melancholy. Such a sadness that your Father should lose his parents so young in life, and then you in turn lose your Father at an early age also. So much emotion contained in your words. The image you have posted makes the read even more poignant. Such a young, handsome face staring out at us with the pictures of the cats. Really hits home hard just how fragile life can be. Love your classical style Linda Marie. Great flow and rhyme.

Chris

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Chris. Every word that you say is true. The rainy weather this morning pulled this poem out of me.

[Chris Shaw]

Not a fan of autumn. Love the colour but hate the melancholy. Have experienced that since schooldays. I am a lover of spring, the season of renewal. The melancholy produces great poetry though :)