Raising the Dead




You spoke to me through grass and loam;
I could feel the reverberations of it in my ears,
feel it sorrowing across my skin--
an empathetic harmony ringing in my bones.

Drifting as if a ghost through this grey garden
of stones, I fill my hollow heart
with the whole of lives decomposed
to so few words:
born and died, beloved and loving,
mother, father, daughter, son--
blessed infant...
I grieve for the loss of so many worlds
other than my own.

Gliding, as if mere inches off the ground,
my bare toes tread softly on dew-sodden grass;
oh, my feet are joyful to drown!
My head brushes against the sky
and it musses my hair;
my elbows bumpety-bump against
the hours and days and years
that flow by too swiftly for the living,
though the dead are awfully generous
and don't mind their wait.
The happiness and the pain
we tend to guard so jealously in life
still pull at me with desperate hands,
sending chills all the way through
our unsettled past, but what remains
guides true to what will eventually come.

When you whispered in my ear,
I sucked in my breath-- my heart forgot its beat.
So many times before I didn't understand;
I'd get upset and not want to know, but time and loss
and life, itself
are surprisingly patient teachers.
Anger and grief eventually learn to re-shape themselves
into forgiveness and acceptance. I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself
and had to learn to love the whole of you
just as I must learn to love all of what lives on in me.

I listen, now, filled with forgiveness for us both
and only a little of that righteously inherited stubbornness.
After all, every daughter is born to trouble their father,
and, goodness, wasn't I
good at that?

Wow, Mel....

There is SO MUCH evidence of wisdom, patience and empathy learned and earned through pain and trouble!

There are many lines that I love, but these really jump out at me:

The happiness and the pain
we tend to guard so jealously in life
still pull at me with desperate hands,
sending chills all the way through
our unsettled past, but what remains
guides true to what will eventually come.

Also, I was touched by the profundity of these lines:

.... I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself

I LOVE your ending, but I wonder at the use of the (I know, today very current) unisex 'singular' "their"... since "daughter" obviates that in this case the "their" is simply "her"... so why not use "her" ?

Anyhow, I want you to know that it is an absolute thrill to read you again, my friend!!

deLightingly, Daniel

Hi Melinda

It has been such a treat to read your poetry again. I am so pleased you have found your way to MM.

I love the mixture of emotions you have written in here. These lines particularly struck a chord:

.... I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself

I have noticed this about myself - I often point out faults in others that I actually have myself.

I hope we'll be seeing more of your poems soon.

Snow

Hi Melinda!

I don't think we've met before, but memory plays tricks on one.

Your poem is psychologically deep, as well as emotionally moving. I can hardly pick out preferences, but I love

QUOTE

the hours and days and years
that flow by too swiftly for the living,
though the dead are awfully generous
and don't mind their wait.

Wow, I'm speechless.

And what wonderful words for a cemetery:

QUOTE

this grey garden
of stones,

One suggestion to ToT:

QUOTE

I'd get upset and not want to know, but time and loss
and life, itself <<<<<<< move comma to after 'itself'
are surprisingly patient teachers.

I also think it preferable to use 'her' in your marvellous finale.

Thanks for sharing, I've had such a satisfying read.

Psyche aka Syl***

Daniel! I'm thrilled that you like this poem, it means a lot to me. And, sir, you are quite right about using 'her' rather than 'their'. Thank you for seeing what I did not!

Snow, I'm gratified that those lines, ".... I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself"

touched you as they did. I loved my father with all my heart, but we had an often difficult relationship. It took my arriving adulthood and his passing to realize that one of the problems between us were that we were actually very much alike. I was my father's daughter, through and through. The realization of this and the acceptance and ultimate forgiveness is what salvaged our love in the end.

Thank you, and like Daniel, your suggestion is exactly right!


Mel

Hello, Psyche! It's really nice to meet you. Your comments are all well taken and I'm pleased that you like those particular parts that you have pointed out. I like you suggestion about the comma after life itself, and will look into it when I start revisions! You have been so helpful!

I look forward to learning more about you through your poetry!

Mel

G'day Melinda

First time meeting.

Truly a tug-of-war: an emotional mind searching duet.

Just a few ideas to think about.


Gliding, as if mere inches off the ground,
my bare toes tread softly on dew-sodden grass;
oh, my feet are joyful to drown!
My head brushes against the sky
and it musses my hair;
my elbows bumpety-bump against
the hours and days and years
that flow by too swiftly for the living, delete, you have defined (hours,days, and years)
though the dead are awfully generous
and don't mind their wait.
The happiness and the pain
we tend to guard so jealously, in life delete again not needed (see above)
still pull at me with desperate hands,
sending chills all the way through
our unsettled past, but what remains
guides true to what will eventually come.

A few repetitive things that caught my eye.

Give or take.

Regards,

John

G'day Melinda - what a thoughtfully constructed poem this is - the tinge of regret in the lines is almost tangible and no doubt there are many of us who have walked in your MC's shoes.



Ain't that the truth.

I also like your grey garden of stones, seems less threatening and daunting somehow with a softer gentler feel to it - rather Emily Bronteish.

Johns suggestions I would also agree with but overall this is a sensitively written poem that demands to be read again and yet again. Well done.

Cheers

Maureen

Hello Mel,

What a pleasure to read your poetry again! First, I must say how perfect the title is! Bravo. The tone you've set is smooth and stable and the word choices are wonderful. I've read this four times now in this writing. You've made a trip through the cemetary and the metaphors of reflection and nature so lifelike. I love 'garden of stone' and 'lives decomposed to so few words'. It actually struck a chord when I got to the bottom of S3, and I thought, How sad, but very true in this:
The happiness and the pain
we tend to guard so jealously in life
still pull at me with desperate hands,
sending chills all the way through
our unsettled past, but what remains
guides true to what will eventually come.

Sometimes our entire lives are sheltered a bit - certain events we don't want to recall - but when that moment comes and you see how wonderful the memories really are (and the healing and the hurt of not having what you love be there with you still) - it makes you, well, you. I think this embodies that spirit and is telling of what life teaches us: that we must learn to understand and more importantly, accept the bonds that never fade, and as we age, may we all become more aware (and then cherish them).

My only nit is here:
Gliding, as if mere inches off the ground,
my bare toes tread softly on dew-sodden grass; --LUV THIS!
oh, my feet are joyful to drown! feet are joyful?? Iam getting hung up on this word choice. Perhaps the feet are elated?

Enjoyed the read and the ending is a stunner. As with the others, I too was touched by the profound message here in these lines:
.... I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself

It made me think of a new suggestion - of potentially switching some of the lines at the end: It is like this now:

Anger and grief eventually learn to re-shape themselves
into forgiveness and acceptance. I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself
and had to learn to love the whole of you
just as I must learn to love all of what lives on in me.

I listen, now, filled with forgiveness for us both
and only a little of that righteously inherited stubbornness.
After all, every daughter is born to trouble their father,
and, goodness, wasn't I
good at that?

What if you swapped these?

Anger and grief eventually learn to re-shape themselves
into forgiveness and acceptance. I listen, now,
filled with forgiveness for us both
and only a little of that righteously inherited stubbornness.

I realize
that there was something in you
that I did not like in myself
and had to learn to love the whole of you
just as I must learn to love all of what lives on in me.

After all, every daughter is born to trouble their father,
and, goodness, wasn't I
good at that?

Enjoyed!
~Cleo