Part 3 of 3 - FINDING CLOSURE WITH A FINAL GOOD-BYE

part 3 of 3 

In my eyes, it almost seems like a lifetime away,
Though the tales extend beyond my generation and then some,
A flood of memories flash me back to the start of my time.   

Like the dust clouds left behind driving dirt roads to our cottage
Much remains a blur of nostalgia, some clear as yesterday,
Over the hill, a few driveways in, stands a part of my life.  

Summer breaks and random days are my earliest memories,
Then as years passed by, it became at most a week in transit,
Sadly, my career robbed me of extended summer visits.     

Early on, I looked forward to returning every summer,
Even when summer days were longer and hours were shorter,
Making rounds to spend time with my blood and chosen family. 

Several years passed since the transfer of the caretakers took place,
Leaving a lifetime of memories and a part of their soul, 
Its what made our lives just all that richer than many others.      

Keys to being caretaker ended, with no formal farewell,
Entrusting the new caretakers will create their memories,
Allowing them time to navigate and learn their own pathway.  

Leaving our footprints, we walked along the dew dampened driveway,
I heard faint voices become clearer conversations quickly,
Finally, our paths crossed with introductions and happy tears. 

Engaged in chatter, like lifelong friends separated for years,
Taking time to let the senses absorb the reality,
I allowed my emotions to take over not common sense. 

My memories of my childhood always bring me back here,
Even returning now, as a middle-aged man, nothing’s changed,
Appearing time stood still, yet, something seems to have changed today. 

With every step taken and each word said, Dad’s presence was felt,
As Mom and I walked around the cottage and the property,
Yielding time for us to both have closure with one last good-bye. 

 

 

THE CREATURE IN THE QUANTUM JUNGLE

The Somatic Series:  Poetry Workshop #4 at MadArts

 

I stared at the people,

Touching what looks like

hundreds of freshly purchased door stops or springs,

perfectly mounted inches apart,

on a dark painted blackboard,

which appears to be a creature in a dormant state of slumber.

 

With the warmth of human hands,

gliding over the cold springs,

each yielding soft sounds,

with a flash of louder colors,

 lighting up the room,

as if the creature within was awoken.

 

I watched some,

who have gentle random gestures,

in awe of a light show they received,

as if it bashfully blinked and said thank you,

for the comforting touch.

 

I watched others,

who have more vigorous predictable motions,

in return received a larger display of emotions,

with more colors than before,

as if it was defiantly disturbed from its peaceful rest,

 

I watched it recoil to its quiet,

hibernating self,

the board becoming dark again,

its voice silenced,       

once the last patron left the room,

only to repeat its cycle,

with the next wave of patrons,

about to enter the realm

of the creature in the quantum jungle.