Library Matters: slice of life

The Slice of Life community, hosted by Two Writing Teachers, is a weekly event where writers, and wannabe maybe writers like myself, link up and share a bit of what they have written in the past week. I try to get to as many posts as I can because they all fill me with inspiration and awe. Do yourself a favour and take a bit of time to read some of the posts.

Last weekend we celebrated my mother's life. There was the Catholic funeral mass in the morning, the interment of her ashes and the following reception at the church. In the evening we hosted a potluck barbeque in our backyard for about ninety family and friends. It was a day abundant with joy and love, just how Mom would have wanted it.

With that phase of the grieving process is over, I feel a need to let go of these poems I wrote and worked on in the time before now. Today I'm releasing these last two pieces into digital space.

the d word

I can almost say it.

There was a time
I didn't understand the use of euphemisms.

passing away
crossing over
gone to a better place
at peace
resting in heaven
visiting those who went before
shuffled off the mortal coil
joined the great poker game in the sky

Now these
transition words
carry me across the space

from before

to after

My mother died.
She is dead.
In this moment, for now at least,
I can say it.

Maybe this means I know it is real.

Cycle

My mother left in the spring,

the air fresh, fragrant, and sweet
with earth's giddiness,

A bacchanalia of new life.

I swear,

the old gods were welcoming her home.

Thank you so much to the SOL community whose kind words encourage me to continue to work on my writing. I especially appreciate Two Writing Teachers for hosting this weekly event.

Since January, my mother languished in the hospital. Writing kept me sort of grounded. Words clamoured their way out of me whenever and wherever they wanted. I've continued to work on a few of these pieces. This poem was written after Mom was transferred to the palliative care ward. A tender intimacy develops there between staff and patients and families.

Spaceships

Here on this space station

We are not the astronauts

This is not the arrival gate

We wander the halls of the departure area

Find refuge in small rooms,

Make coffee,

Smile at one another,

Make eye contact,

Exchange names,

Ask about each other's travelers.

Occasionally, we celebrate.