In death there is no forgiveness

Cherry

By bhi

Thu, 01 Apr 2021
  • 1131 reads
9 comments
 

 

he lies frozen, a week in the morgue

on top of ice, mouth, sealed with sugar,

toothless; he’d come for implants – the shock

of extraction a “factor in his stroke”.

 

we wash him, my cousins, uncles and I,

and shrouded bear him shouldered to the pyre;

Neem, Mango, ten trees chopped to fuel the fire

that beacons through the night. By dawn redacted,

hot ash sparking, some small bones still intact,

which my mother, forgiving, sifts to collect.

 

i cannot. He broke her; memories’ page

replays her daily bloodied, the helpless rage

of my early childhood. I, though saddened,

reject his death’s plea to be pardoned.

he was neither husband nor a father,

I could not love him and will not hereafter.

Certificate 15
Poem

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Reads beautifully, this is so moving, thank you for posting it

 

Submitted by bhi on

Thank you so much for reading and commenting. This has been swirling around in my head for a while and it just had to be written, a closure that did not happen when he died.

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Wonderful poem. 

 

Submitted by bhi on

Thank you. 

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

I did not even notice the rhymes, this moves so smoothly from line to line, as truly great poems do. Every line has important meaning, and an image. I keep reading it over and over, the emotion you evoke like a heat even as you describe the ashes cooling. Sorry for waffling. I do not know if it is true, about you, if it is, I am sorry, though you have made a  powerful and moving, and beautiful poem, as Insert and Onemore said. Unforgettable

 

Submitted by bhi on

He died a while back but I could not bring myself to write anything, and i wanted the the emotions, especially the anger, to die down. But I couldn't keep what i felt inside me and this poem is the result. It is a closure of sorts. Thank you for reading and the feedback. 

 

Submitted by Nolan on

Honest, so we will see in ten years time & Nolan

 

Submitted by love_writing on

This is a wonderfully moving poem.... 'the helpless rage of my early childhood' so evocative.  

love_writing

Submitted by bhi on

Thank you.  As children we watch and we absorb but we are helpless in the face of so many things because we are not yet fully equipped to take in and understand. We are always looking back and wondering how things might have been different if.....