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| Dear Monday (M.A. Reilly, 2015) |
I.
When she found out her husband
was in love with another woman,
she was in Lake Michigan.
Literally.
The day had begun pleasant enough
but took a turn
when an unanticipated storm
roughed up the waters
and the boat--she,
her husband and her best friend were on--
capsized.
Instead of seeing to her care,
she watched
as her husband frantically moved to save her best friend.
What her husband's fear
revealed that day
as they hung on
to the side of the boat,
undid her.
They would divorce
without much fanfare
and she would leave the Windy City behind.
I would meet her after this,
after she had left Chicago
and she would tell me this story
as we sat in a bar on a late Monday afternoon,
the light as lost as I imagined she felt.
A year later, she would leave New York and resettle somewhere south.
I think about her now and again
so many years have passed.
I wonder about the things we carry
and how these burdens
keep us moving
as if life was a constant
treading of water.
II.
People move in and out
of our lives
like moths to light.
A flicker.
A singe.
And then nothing.
We feel them, nonetheless, in the stories
they have told
that we retell
too early on Monday mornings
before the light can warm.
powerful slice today. "we feel then, nonetheless in the stories they have told". so true.
ReplyDeleteThanks. Just something that I recalled.
DeleteI like this part - "People move in and out/of our lives/like moths to light" So true.
ReplyDeleteThe pace of your poem perfectly sets a serious, sad tone. Beautifully crafted.
Thanks Sally. Appreciate you taking time to read it and comment:)
DeleteTruly, each time I visit your blog and linger in your words, I feel enriched. You have a gift for not only capturing the nuances of life in your images, but also your words. Such a passionate poem - thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteSo kind of you to say. The poem wrote itself. I had written it first as prose and then began fooling around with lines and that led to a bit of revision.
DeleteSo kind of you to say. The poem wrote itself. I had written it first as prose and then began fooling around with lines and that led to a bit of revision.
DeleteYou truly have a gift. This is beautiful and sad. I want to read more.
ReplyDeleteOoh. Thanks. I'm glad you want to read more:)
DeleteOoh. Thanks. I'm glad you want to read more:)
DeleteI love the way you brought poem 1 back to treading water. I also love how you played with formatting in poem 1. It made sense and enhanced your words. Beautiful writing.
ReplyDeleteI did try to bring you back to the lake to the action I didn't narrate about--waiting to be rescued.
DeleteSo true - the people who come and go in our lives, bringing their stories and their needs. This stanza stays with me:
ReplyDeleteI wonder about the things we carry
and how these burdens
keep us moving
as if life was a constant
treading of water.
Isn't it. It's the stories we recall that keeps us connected.
DeleteIsn't it. It's the stories we recall that keeps us connected.
DeleteSo true - the people who come and go in our lives, bringing their stories and their needs. This stanza stays with me:
ReplyDeleteI wonder about the things we carry
and how these burdens
keep us moving
as if life was a constant
treading of water.