Clothes-Speak

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Sun, 02 Aug 2015
  • 2532 reads
10 comments
 
Folk don’t want to know when one speaks of dying.  
It’s a no-no.  People clam up...cross to the other side 
of the street...don’t what anything to do with the darker
side of life, inevitable though it is. 
 
So what am I left with...talking to myself,
perhaps?  Anyway, they wouldn’t understand, not
about death, even though it seems they ask...her clothes,
So... Where did she go? Hanging, limp...languid, as they are, 
in the closet, but I do not know the language
of clothes.
 
If I did, I might tell them how much I miss her,
and how, if I talk about her ancient Aran jumper, dumped
at the bottom of the closet...the one she always wore 
to garden in the rain, it might unburden me...at least
be a vehicle for my grief...
 
but when I open the door...see its arms folded 
across its chest in denial of everything, I know
I’d be wasting my breath, and so Oxfam might be 
the only answer...give them a new lease of life.
 
But what of me?  What did she bequeath?  And why?
There can be no meaning, perhaps they’d answer...
if they could, None other than you find here,
no other reason but what you make of it yourself.
 
That, and her last request, unwinding, still from my ears, 
May I wear your dress...the yellow one with birds on, 
for my final trip? and she did, and if it were here
right now, as it couldn’t be, after going, there, with her, 
it would, at least, have given her some kind of immortality, 
or would it just have been her Coco Chanel?
Certificate 12
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Philosophy
Love

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

A touching read Tina,

it's so hard to let go of a loved one, their clothing having so much meaning to the person that they were...Oh! If clothes could speak...wondering if they would remember the moments they spent with their owner.

I know how you feel, I have a cardigan that belonged to my mum, which I keep in a box. She knitted it herself so I'll never part with it, while holding her scent, even after fifteen years.

Much love within this piece which tugs at the heart strings.

Read with love.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Your words are so precious, Jenny, and a heartfelt thank you for them.  That cardigan is priceless and it is no wonder you cherish it.

Tina 

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

This is beautiful and full of questions that never leave. On that dress..it sounds gorgeous and fitting.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

You are so right about that dress, it was.  Thank you, so much, Vera.

Tina

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

Absolutely lovely.  I particularly liked the idea of 'the language of clothes' - what they could tell us.  The yellow dress is a beautiful last gift.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you, so much, af.  Your words more than appreciated.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

That dress did me in, Tina. And I loved -

'her ancient Aran jumper...
... it might unburden me...at least
be a vehicle for my grief...
 
but when I open the door...see its arms folded 
across its chest in denial of everything, I know
I’d be wasting my breath... ' - that sweater has attitude.

Such a moving piece of writing. Clothes do talk.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

'A sweater with attitude'...love that, Beesmiley

Many thanks for your inspired thinking, as ever,

Tina

 

Submitted by Shannan on

We can only cope as best we can... understanding we are all so different... the Coco is usually still clinging to their clothes as we cling to the memories...

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

So very true, Shannan.  Thanks so much for dropping by, and I hope you are well. It is always good to hear from you.

Tina