Baobabs and Bedouins

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Tue, 27 Oct 2015
  • 2018 reads
7 comments
 
To know I will never look upon 
your face again – hear you call my name,
 
be inspired by that crooked smile
of yours, is a thing I can’t conceive of
 
for just yesterday we chatted. I sat 
on your bed and spoke of anything
and everything...not quite
 
‘cabbages and kings’ – more 
baobab trees and Bedouins...
 
how we’d go travelling in the spring...
how you were aiming to make, at least,
the 31st of April...
 
ever maintaining that dry wit
of yours...took me a while
to see the funny side.  
 
Each day you woke, you said,
was a bonus, a gift...this  
the way you saw it.
 
Today I walked your dog, 
took our path through the woods –
 
the one with the bench by the tree
where you carved our initials 
 
on the willow overhangs
 the stagnant pond;
 
Daisy’s favourite ball –
a bluer shade of alone, 
still floats there.
 
‘Life goes on’, they tell me
but what do they know?
 
Only... the transience of it 
makes no sense, no sense at all …
 
not if it hangs on such fragile thread
as does the catkin from
the willow.
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Love

Comments

Submitted by blackjack-davey on

The timeless, the enduring sense of loss, and the everyday objects-- the faded blue ball in the pond, the sense of continuity but of very little comfort-- you still walk the dog, the initials are carved on the bench and the blue ball continues to float (some mood regulating ballcock), But what sense does it all make without the person you love.'Life goes on' one of the most wearying cliches about. It certainly goes on for those others without your experience.And, depending on your mood, hanging on to the unravelling threads is either the distilled stuff of our experience or the pointless waste. ...impermanence as either beauty or panic.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

How deftly you climb inside the mind of the narrator bjd.

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

This did make me think, Tina, of so many who feel the loss of a daughter or son of whom they never had good memories, a loss double. Memories so sweet must hurt so much, but you wouldn't have not had them, I'm sure.

I did so like the last three lines, but I think the fragility, and suffering of this life I wouldn't want to be permanent, for that I would want it without the sadnesses. But, as you show, sometimes the transience here for some does seem so short, though some of them leave a multitude of treasured moments. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

'Memories so sweet must hurt so much, but you wouldn't have not had them....'  how very right you are, Rhiannon.  

Many, many thanks for your empathy, and for your wise words.

Tina

 

Submitted by Frances Macaula... on

I love how you often finish with an image - you could have been a screenwriter, conjouring up so many images which speak volumes.  Another sad one, sharing your terrible loss again - thank you for opening your heart. 

Soundcloud:  https://soundcloud.com/search?q=FrancesMF

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

You're always so good at putting your feelings into words Tina. It's only through the fellowship of others, do we find understanding and the connection that we're not alone in our struggle. Being able to write your sentiments down is a great comfort, I'm sure you reach out to others who are going through a similar situation with your poetry.

Beautifully done.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by london_calling79 on

The Baobab tree from The Little Prince may I presume?