Life Silenced

MeeAugraphie
04/05/09

05 of 30, April 2009 Prompt: Poefusion

Poefusion: Michelle’s prompt today:

“Write about a noise-
or a silence-
that won’t go away.”

She has given us such a wide range today… was hard to decide which noise or silence… This prompt bears revisiting another day as well. Join in?

Death Came for One…

Honoring J was primary in minds and hearts that day.

For some, quiet tears flowed freely at the church
as they had at home for days.
For others, practiced stoicism kept their tears
behind doors with leaky weather stripping
that allowed pained expression to infiltrate
the room, but kept the drops from
splat
splat
splat
down paled cheeks.

In some families
it appeared it was the women
who flexed their strength that day,
as they kept tears (at times) to a trickle
and showed their gracious side
and I knew we just had more practice at spreading out our tears
while the men had practiced holding in, forgetting
overwhelmed dams do burst.

In our family, two women rubbed their husbands’ backs
as the normal male show of bravado
crumbled to reveal the side
most had merely glimpsed.

One young woman had not her husband’s back to rub
… only that of their toddler….

One after another,
scattered over hours,
people commanded their feet take those last
steps toward the door of reality they knew
must slam full in their face,

and they approached
wife and toddler,
mother and father,
sister,
grandmothers,
aunts and uncles
cousins and friends

Each time they opened their mouths
and demanded their hearts speak,
having given up on their brain’s
ability to form a cohesive sentence

and most breathed a hidden sigh of relief
as words came and sentences from their heart completed
and hearts opened to collect them in an effort to crowd out unshed tears.

No one doubted hearts hard work ahead.

All seemed grateful as oxygen momentarily returned to their hearts
in the midst of the hurt that threatened to choke,
for the flow restarted at times most needed

Smiles leaked out when memories,
too funny to deny by muscles once used,
escaped to be reformed in words

Smiles erupted from the tidal pull of children:
too young to understand adults crying more than ever before,
too young to understand why tears poured harder after
laughter dared break silence
as slides of cuteness gave way to slides of promised future unmet.

Parents spoke silent thanks for sons or daughters
who still had futures before them,
but guilt that their children remained
would be hard to reconcile against this loss,
as subtle gestures or crushing hugs
reminded that their children
still remembered and sought
the comfort of mommy and daddy,
still brought laughter at the child that remained inside,
still brought pride as they learned to deal with living
still hugged their wives or children

and one young man, who had so often, did not anymore…

but this reconciliation was shoved behind the scenes
to return in midnight’s midst
to meld with worry for his wife and child
that had darted in and out all day.

Remembering J was primary in minds and hearts that day.

LIfe Moved Forward for Another

Honoring J was primary in minds and hearts that day

yet this day fell on our son’s thirty-first birthday,
so we privately acknowledged such -
and knew how hard his week would be
for unequal celebrations like today
would slug him later in the gut
not once, but twice, as J’s thirty-first birthday
and his – were merely days apart

and the scheduled celebration was scheduled days too late.

We were proud that our son (among others),
had jumped right in to help,
had braved shared tears, and thrown laughter
with family and with friends

We were proud of his compassion,
and even that he hurt, for that was one barometer
he had become the man we hoped,

Yes, we sighed in relief
as he had the control to walk forward
when it became his turn
to read scripture in clear voice
so that all could understand each word
in an ages old attempt to comfort,
for we knew he doubted his strength
to hold back sobs and though all
would understand if he faltered,
it mattered to him that he not leave words unheard.

And it was not our support, this time, that
truly steadied him as he read, but that of another friend,
standing beside him, ready to take the reins, in case.

No, it was not my my hand that rubbed his back
when dammed tears overran their banks
for hers was already there
and we knew that meant
that she and he would be alright,
as she had strength to flex for him
and the love to want to do so;
and he, we also knew, had the same to give back in return.

And other things were thought and shared
that warmed special places in our hearts
and for Leon and I, even with
so much positive wangling in
to mix with our crying hearts that day,
even knowing a few smiles had wangled
or would wangle eventually into the hearts
of all else left behind,

this guilt that our child
remained would be hard to reconcile against their loss,
as subtle gestures and crushing hugs
reminded that our child still remembered
and sought the comfort of mommy and daddy
(and wife and friends and internal thought)
still brought laughter at the child that remained inside,
still brought pride as he learned to deal with living
and still hugged his wife and might a future child

and theirs, who had so very often, did not anymore,

but this reconciliation was shoved behind the scenes
to return in midnight’s midst
to meld with worry for his wife and child
that had darted in and out all day.

Remembering J was primary in minds and hearts that day, but
N was never ever very far away.

Celebration of Death and Life Collided

If truth were continued as it began upon this page,
J and N shared space in our minds and hearts that day,
and at this point I will speak only of my mind and heart,
as it often flies to lands beyond another’s grasp.

It was not that J or N did rise or fall,
they chose to rotate in and out,
to bring smiles and tears, tears and smiles, just two friends
shoving one aside to take center stage for himself,
then bowing grandly and allowing the other
his rightful opportunity to take center stage again

and as rowdy boys often did,
they slugged it out, and one would win,
the other would fall out of sight,
then one would reach out to push the other
forward, a show of chivalry.

I relaxed momentarily to just enjoy the show

and I for one, found contentment in this
game in heart and mind.
It was not only guilt or sadness that sprang
as memories of J invaded silences
or interrupted noisy thoughts,
or joined in with thoughts of our son that day,

it was also gratefulness
that we had been among those lucky enough
to have been, at least, bit players in J’s life on earth.

Parents spoke silent thanks for sons or daughters
who still had futures before them,
but guilt that their children remained
would be hard to reconcile against this loss,
as subtle gestures or crushing hugs
reminded that their children
still remembered and sought the comfort of mommy and daddy,
still brought laughter at the child that remained inside,
still brought pride as they learned to deal with living,
still hugged their wives or children

and one thirty-one year old man, who had so often, did not anymore…

but this reconciliation was shoved behind the scenes
to return in midnight’s midst
to meld with worry for his wife and child
that had darted in and out all week.

Remembering J was primary in minds and hearts that day
and N resides there every day,
today my mind made sure they had one more chance to play.

Marcia McLees Bogaert
02/09/09

Leon and I though this, in part, of J.

On NIgel’s birthday, J’s funeral mass was held, I kept my birthday words for Nigel quite simple publicly that day, but the depth implied was heard, I hope.

Dread Sea of Tears

Marcia McLees Bogaert
12/30/08

Migraine Visions

She cannot get a clear picture
of his face
tears fall
heart strangles
throat spasms threaten her sanity
as images strobe
matching migraine’s aura
in color and speed.

She watches in fascination
as bits of him brighten
then fade,
blue eyes zig zag to yellow sun
red cheeks zig zag to white clouds.

She is seized with joy at each glimpse,
and stretches with herculean effort
toward a more complete vision of him

and each unanswered reach
increases her dread
crushes her heart
with as much force as migraine’s dilation
pounds her skull.

Similarity to her migraines ends there
for the current colorful show within her head
may fascinate,
and pain will surely accompany or follow
but with her migraine the pain will subside and peace return,

his death has robbed her peace and though she allows
the strobes of a migraine to vanish willingly
she will beg in every waking moment that
the pieces of his face strobe until they become
whole again and accept whatever pain it takes
to see him again whole.

MeeAugraphie
12/14/08, heavily revised 12/18/08

(I know this is a bit long and “convoluted”, someday I will attempt to cut it. I originally wrote it in first person, but that made it too close to my fears for the future, but in switching it, I allowed myself too much “wiggle” room and got too wordy.)

Sympathy’s Role

MeeAugraphie
08/19/08

Our neighbor died last week. I wrote about how some human’s react to death here.

It Matters Not

Life or death
matters not

families come together
or push apart

memories cascade 
or swell inside

smiles conquer tears
or sorrow overwhelms

thoughts expand
or minds contract

one is welcomed 
another disdained

wedges are driven
or voids are crossed

….

human emotions
thicken the plot

Life or death,
matters not.

MeeAugraphie
05/09/08