37/108: memories

photo-1428699190791-2c4f8b144d06Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.Guy de Maupassant

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distant

tree in park google wikimediaEarly morning dreams
you silently,
slowly
wave hello

In the park,
of family picnics, atop
dry yellow grass.
‘Twas a version of
you. New and old. Standing,
limbs awakened.

The wave, distant.

Not knowing
what to believe, one
hopes
you see him.
… catch up
on story telling.
… fill in the holes
of
pieces
lost.

A numbed existence,
altered
by loss, has
inundated any emotion.
Tears dilute
all
that
was.

Early morning dreams
you silently,
slowly
wave goodbye.

 

Written by Jennifer Fifield
Image from Google Images

A Common Phrase

She should just wake up,
and realize it is over with him,
I mean it is over, it is done,
I mean, pull the plug, it is done.

My good friend was telling me a story,
about her coworker’s relationship problems,
then asked, What is wrong, you look funny, did I say something?

I looked at her, and replied,
I just do not think of that phrase,
“pull the plug”
the same any more.

She replied softly,
I did not think of it like that. I am sorry.
It is just something I have always said.

I looked at my friend, and quietly thought:

about my father’s gray complexion;
as his body lay attached to tubes and wires and lights,
turning cold as winter.

about the doctor’s somber face;
as she told us that my dad’s life,
would never be the same.

about my mother’s inquiring lips;
as she asked what my sister and I thought,
and if we both agreed.

about my sister’s heartbroken tears;
as she disembarked from the hospital room,
unable to watch such a scene.

I looked at my friend, and quietly said:

I know, it is a common phrase.
I just do not say it any more;

nor will I think of it the same,
ever again.

 

By Jennifer A. Fifield

for one

photo-1414073875831-b47709631146I often
tell my mother
that she should still cook,
that she should prepare
a nice dinner
for herself,
for her body,
for her health

that just because
she no longer has
my father
to cook for,
that she should still
try to enjoy
cooking

then I look down
at my frozen burrito
while on the phone with her,
cross-legged on my gray couch
in my post-divorce,
tiny apartment
and understand
her

 

Jennifer A. Fifield

Image: Unsplash

zinnias in abundance

orange mum

my flowers for you
this day
began two years ago
this day

an april medley, of
un-merry marigolds, and
browning leaves
of grief; and of mourning

dewy sprinkles upon amaryllis
and, upon pretty primrose
released tears of great pride,
memories, yellow, of youth

an undone story, ‘twas
quite difficult, cruel
nature’s nocturnal nettle,
paired with apologetic peony

the sweet fragrance, of
a new bouquet – none
zinnias in abundance,
for your absence is mourned

the feelings arranged, for you
this day:
michaelmas daisies, and
much rosemary
a melancholy farewell, and
undying remembrance.

Jennifer A. Fifield

In Loving Memory, Craig Stewart Fifield 11/20/49 – 4/14/13

Always Remember – Available Now

Always Remember OTHER SITESDedicated to my pops, the epistolary story Always Remember is a collection of thoughts, letters and poems written after his sudden passing in 2013.

Read it now on Amazon Kindle.

For more details, see My Books.

Devastated by the sudden loss of her dad, Jennifer begins writing letters to him as a way of keeping track of the things she still wants to say. Over time, her 70+ letters serve as a way to help her heal. She just wasn’t ready for the conversations to end.