After the funeral

The tear stains are temporary,
a passing dampness on plain paper,
not yet inscribed with condolence;
and my conservatory, ordinarily filled
with sunshine and birdsong,
is dull and eerily silent.

I ought to write something really,
even triteness is better than nothing,
but words are hard to find,
as the turbulence of tombstones,
haphazard in their scattering,
looms large in my mind.

Time passes, and hesitantly,
as if culled from a long held dream,
words appear. They are faint outlines,
amorphous, unable to form into coherence,
but among the shapes I see indelible outlines
of my mourning; stains that will endure.

I remember us then, at eighteen,
picture postcards of confusion;
Freshers, embarking on a journey,
quaffers of ale, sowers of wild oats,  
our preference for quiet moments
with Coleridge hid behind student bravado.

Soon though, as is the way, those halcyon
days passed and like fledgling sparrows
we took flight, leaving behind the
rags and wisps of our known world;
our friendship sworn, implicit in its birth,
a solace now this time of need has come.


And now, as the hour sets,
the shapes finally make sense
and I hear your voice call sweetly out,
telling me time still blows about.
That breath though it so briefly stays
makes merry in so many ways,
and life, though seeming frail as air
is all around and everywhere;
that in each and every blessed year
the miracles of spring appear;
and you a precious bud will e'er remain
for I shall always know your name.

For my friend Carol who I met at Uni and stayed firm friends with over the years. Sadly, after a brave and prolonged fight, she succumbed to cancer just three short weeks ago.

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

memory alone allows the recrudesce of the lost to break out afresh. I see my father at the baseball game and me with a glove that didn't fit. Not the broke down Southern Baptist clutching the scripture till the end.

"I ought to write something really
even triteness is better than nothing".


That's why eulogy hurts to do if you believe in childbirth-unfaithfulness-allegiance-surrender; if you write of the things of rectitude like freedom from these bodies, eternal justice and virtue. Sometimes you read a poem and say to yourself, this writer was there----------throughout.......your amazing, dana

[Gee]

Hi Beccy, am attending the funeral of my best friend of 50 years wife tomorrow. The second stanza is how I am at the moment, wanting to write but not finding words to do justice to the love held for their family and Deb.
Such a beautiful write.
Hope you, the young fella and your parents are well.

So sorry for your loss

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

A very powerfull poem. A great way to pay tripute to your freind.

[Fran Marie]

A beautiful tribute for your friend
those last two lines just awesome
in devotion of a beautiful friendship

[Crowley]

Sorry girl. It is Wierd how evening in stunned sorrow everything you try to write sounds trite even if it isn’t. These kind of losses sting like nobody’s business, but in remembrance we ring our nuggets of joy. I really liked these words, made me sigh…

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Beccy, I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. Your tribute is touching and beautifully penned. Excellent writing. So hard losing friends before their time.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am really saddened by this poem, and relate so well to having lost long-time friends to cancer.
This is a beautiful tribute to her.
And the writing is so good, it reminds me of what Plath would have written for Anne had Sexton
died before she did.
Those Halcyon skies...Coleridge hid behind the bravado.
Excellent work here, Beccy.
j.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

These are beautiful words that will be a testament toward the love and friendship you two shared throughout the briefest of life lived. Thank you for sharing your words with us and a piece of your friend as well.