Consolations After A Breakdown

It's all about perspective

I offer myself consolations

after a breakdown.

I sat against a blank white wall

speaking to my grandfather,

who died when I was seventeen. Guilt

felt then for never knowing him

was heavy between our hands. He spoke to me about war

blood and children. Flying cars, emerald cities,

and impossible things.

His face was smooth, eyes clear

lips moving, though his voice was words behind.

He stood in black and white, pulled from photos

hung on my grandmother’s wall.

We shared made-up memories, regrets,

scotch on the rocks, and he tipped his hat.

Now I lay on mother’s plush oriental rug

making angels in its threads and speaking to no one.

Silence is stifling.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

WOW! WOW! And WOW! This is awesome! Many people try to write a poem that suggests the essence of a person no longer living, as inspired by an old photo, but here you have perfected this in a way I've never seen done before. I absolutely love the straightforward nature of your writing, along with image-filled phrases that are thoughtfully crafted. I'm totally absorbed into your message as I read. I found myself believing there was such a person in my own life that I talk with, even tho it's not a family member such as this. I believe the essence of God can be found in any guiding entity that we choose . . . and in this way, your poem is also spiritual to me.

[CourtniRenee]

Thank you so much for your review! I really appreciate your comments! This poem was a real struggle for me, and took a lot of rewrites. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!