Monday, April 10, 2017

Poem 10: Portrait Poem

I'm going to dispense with the prompt instructions -- today they're simple. Write a portrait of someone important to you.

*

The Man Who Raised Me

After a childhood spent
listening for his anger,
looking up

through his ceilings
into the attic
where he bumped up against

himself,
after the storms
and the drinking,

after shouting in the street,
after years spent
watching him

melt into despair,
I can think of him
with something like love --

can imagine him, soft and
slim,
striding into the sunlit kitchen

where I sit at the table,
spinning out this
dream --

can hear him laugh,
deep and throaty,
tipping up on his toes,

and look up from the page
to see him
smile,

all of his life's
chaotic darkness
drained away,

filled now
with nothing
but a buoyant joy --

the simple ecstasy
of breathing
a celestial sea.

2 comments:

  1. Laurie--this is lovely. You are a much kinder person than I. The only feeling I have about my own step-father is that I hope he does better in his next life. I waited to feel some sadness when he died but felt only relief. You are a very good person, Laurie Mac.

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  2. Thank you, Nina. When he was alive, I tried to come to some sort of detante (mental) with him, and to forgive him, but was never really able to do it. After he died, somehow the impulse to hold onto my anger evaporated, and as we sifted through the detritus of his life, I came to understand all the sources of his own anger and frustration, and to feel compassion for his struggles. Also, years of wine drinking has helped. :P

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