Shed the black cloths of mourning for white lilies, gladiolas, tulips, hyacinth.
A private grieving finally in the House. Thank God. Birds sleeping in the rain
in barren trees of tiniest buds that will eventually sprout magnolia and pear blossoms
ladders of cathedral bells. No more panic of not being able to breathe properly.
The lungs washed by rain. The cloths of being unimaginable it has been said so much
so little just rain awash and human weeping for the lost waiting rooms
the man who shrank into a fracture of star.

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2 Responses to MOURNING

  1. Myke Todd says:

    I enjoyed hearing you read this aloud, last night. Reading it today, after hearing it in your voice, brings a level of comfort, not often afforded with a casual reading.

    As for the poem, it stands as an integral part of your father’s legacy, and that is timeless, and meaningful, especially for those who were fortunate to have known him.

  2. Krysia Jopek says:

    Not sure why I am not seeing Michael Todd’s comment that it looks like I approved after he made it. Ahhh, wordpress, I am no expert and need to purchase a good old fashioned book as I’m not utilizing the 2 groups I’m in. I need to google more, but I get so tired of googling for my own research.

    My response to the invisible comment that I see behind the Oz screen: THANK YOU! for listening to the 90-minute radio show interview with me and John McMullen. And for your support of my poetry! and promoting of said creative work!!!

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