Did they lay a shilling upon each of my eyes?
I’m sure I saw them do it, but I wasn’t there.
I had to close my eyes.
Was the sun shining for the men and women dressed in dark suits?
I think it was a beautiful day, but I couldn’t see through the haze.
Did the children dance and sing to the music of our homeland?
I remember them singing and dancing to sounds that didn't exist.
Bodies swayed and mouths moved, but not one person was there.
Were there food and refreshments passed round to the guests?
I didn’t taste food or drink, but I didn’t complain.
My hunger was a comfort.
Did you cry or laugh at the mention of my name?
I smiled and felt as if you were at my side.
I believe I touched your cheek and looked into your eyes.
Was there a candle lit at mass?
I saw a million flickers lighting up the room.
The atmosphere was vibrant and the smell of phosphorous lingered.
Did you recite a thousand prayers?
I have forgotten how to pray.
I remembered you told me praying was for fools.
Did I make it across?
But to that I couldn’t answer.
Red Wolf Journal Spring 2014, and a fresh start
10 years ago
Posts
This return to the dead woman talking has me flummoxed! It is deeper than I could comprehend.
ReplyDeleteI could feel her moving through the scenes with kind of a deja vu. "My hunger was a comfort" is so interesting, and I love "I saw a million flickers lighting up the room".
ReplyDeleteI think this might be my favorite poem of yours so far. I'm breathless - the writing and the concept have me sitting here, just thinking...
ReplyDeleteViv, it is not a dead woman talking. It is me talking to a dead relative or loved one.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Jeanne.
ReplyDeleteRJ, Thank you and I am not sure where this all came from except, I have lost a lot of family over the years.
ReplyDeleteI would think that hunger would be a comfort to one who has been numbed by the grief process, it was for me. I like the subtlties in this one, the vivid images, and the responses to all those questions. Fantastic response to the prompt, Pamela,
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Yes, Elizabeth don't we feel these things during the grieving process. It is an out of body experience. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteHoly moley!!! This is incredible, Pamela. A slightly different take on the dead man poetry and oh so powerful.
ReplyDeleteQuite the otherworldly scenario, as told poetically with festive, sad, and speculative details. Fine poem, Pamela. Cheers
ReplyDeleteWell, thanks Victoria. It is really written as if the dead person were talking to me.
ReplyDeleteAdam, Don't we celebrate all at the passing of a loved one. The Irish certainly do, but sometimes we are so numb that miss many major details.
ReplyDeleteThanks.
Oh love this ...it can be read two ways talking to someone else or to self...a Dante special edition here....love pieces that make me think...thank you, you have pumped up my heart beat...bkm
ReplyDeleteBarb, you are right, it can be read both ways. But it isn't a "Dead Person Poem" in the formal sense. It is laid out to be a conversation. I think:)Thanks for the nice comment.
ReplyDeleteVery somber and thought provoking. Love the flow too.
ReplyDeletebeautifully written! takes me back to a decade ago, looking down at my sister and wondering why. so real.
ReplyDelete"Did I make it across?
But to that I couldn’t answer."
this remains the unanswerable question. Wonderful poem, haunting.
Thanks too, for visiting my site and commenting.
I look forward to continuing to read your heartfelt poetry. Thanks
Pamela, I felt the tone was beautiful, wistful, and the ending (surprise) cast a deep tone to that feeling.
ReplyDeletePam, what a thoughtful poem about talking to a loved one after they have died. I like the question about whether the loved one laughed or cried at the mention of one's name. One always hopes for the best. I don't think praying is for fools. I hope it isn't. I hope we all make it to the other side! Well done, Pam.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the visit autumnraven.
ReplyDeleteThanks tolbert and I look forward to reading your writings as well.
ReplyDeleteIrene, we do not know what happens after death.
ReplyDeleteThanks.
Mary, imagine the conversation, if we could have one.
ReplyDeleteThis was clear to me from its disembodied start. The give-and-take appropriate, similtaneously etherial and grounded. Wonderful work.
ReplyDeleteAlmost a ritual feel here, Pamela. Something very timeless in the questions and answers, in the ceremonies...it could have come out of an Egyptian tomb or an ancient book of the dead almost. Very nicely done.
ReplyDeleteRon, I am happy you could tell:)
ReplyDeleteThanks.
Thanks Joy Ann. Wakes and funerals are rituals, at least in the Catholic religion.
ReplyDeletei agree, this is one of your best pamela.. only when one has met a number of dead people does the conversation seem not unusual... death is definitely an experience from both sides...
ReplyDeleteWow, this is sooooo deep on so many levels and speaks to my soul. What an amazing poem you have written...a dramatic interaction with text perfectly crafted Pamela!! Bravo my friend oxo
ReplyDeleteYes, ms pie, a very surreal experience.
ReplyDeleteThanks.
Thanks Amanda and I hope the best for you and everyone in Queensland.
ReplyDeleteHope kept intensifying throughout the poem.. and then finally, that last line! It just left me wondering... I guess sometimes, one just never knows... it's all about going with the flow, I suppose..
ReplyDeleteWhat an amazing one shot, Pamela... Kudos!
Kavita, we don't know really, we only hope.
ReplyDeleteThanks.