Tag: Death Poem

For U. Al, a poem

Shannon WilliamsLeave a comment 
Now let us pause for the
passing of the last of
our grandfathers.
Let us breathe the
same air
and apprecxiate
What it is to Live.
Let us extend
a wish a prayer
for his spirit
to be received warmly.
Let him sense 
a calm
like a smile and
a feeling like
wanting to dance.
Let his brilliant blue eyes sparkle
like the moment they opened to
the world.
Let him know 
he was our Grandfather.
Let him know
he was a Father.
And one of the few
Decent and Honest Men
I encountered as a child.
Let the horseshoes 
     be quiet today.
Let the newspaper 
     sit folded.
As we step aside 
     as he walks to his rest.
Stand tall in his name.
A gentle goodbye
     to the last of our
     grandfathers.

For Pammy, a poem

Shannon WilliamsLeave a comment 
Not knowing how to die is a Thing.
Sometimes it's Time and it still
Doesn't come.
Say goodbye on the phone 
Before it's Really Bad
Say we swam together
     and I love you
Say we went to the flower show 
     and I love you
Say you poured water on my head
     in the bathtub
     and my arms sprouted
     leaves and branches
     that reached for the sky
     and I grew grew grew
     and I love you
Say we love Each Other.
     We. Love. Each. Other. Very. Much.
Joke that you will bring me 
     with you
     so it won't be scary.
Be ready to do it again.
When it's harder.
And she can't remember where she lives
Where her furniture went
Why nobody's coming over.
Be ready to do it again.
     When she's weak. And doesn't
     remember your mom.
Keep your tears to yourself
     on the phone the nurse is holding
     and tell her it's ok to Go.
     - please don't go. but don't say that -
And don't stay there in Sorrow.
     Sorrow is the weather
     When Death doesn't know how to come.
     When shallowly she still breathes
          away from you
     And you Google How to Write an Obituary.
Outside on the porch the season is Spring.
The trees are a million fresh shades 
     of chlorophyll. 
The warm breeze is a million Springs. 
A million Easter Days Mother's Days Loving Days
     full of endless bowls of homemade pasta
     and tomato flowers
     bursting on the vine.
The Warm Breeze is the shallow breath
     and heart still beating.
The Warm Breeze whispers
     of the Process
of the sunny days in the garden
of the Sunday dinners
     and cake for dessert.
of the cigarettes snuck in the bathroom
     and end-less moments to 
     laugh and say bullshit and
     holler and say get in here and
     help with the Dishes forever.
Forever.
So why not now. Certainly now.
     While breath still persists 
          somewhere.
Conjure the Process in your 
     Witch's Heart and
Call into being the Chosen Times.
Reach for a smile that rages from 
your grief and ignite the spell.
And hold the Space.
     When you can.
     hold off sorrow because
     We. Love. Each. Other. Very. Much.
Not knowing how to die is a Thing.
A lonely punctuation of a 
     passionate and triumphant 
     essay.
A jubilant and tragic masterpiece.
A sorrowful and tender portrayal 
     of a little girl who survived 
     more than her share
Who grew and birthed a little girl 
     who survived more than her share
Who grew and birthed a little girl
     and set her Free.

Back in a Sec, a poem

Shannon WilliamsLeave a comment 
I can't deny that when I turned
onto the snow covered hill
in Nick's slick red sedan that
I knew I was placing a bet.
As the car crept down the first
snow crunchy hill
I was transported to this one time
when I was eight
in the backseat of the Buick Regal
my mom was trying to keep 
on the road as we slid like a sled
like butter on a griddle
to Chance's whim.
If my mom can do it...
I think that's right where I was.
Then like ice broken from the burg
and floating out to sea, out to space-
Terrifying Release.
Quiet absence of a teather.
Enormous absence of a teather.
Of course no no nO nO NO NO NO NO
And a sound called a scream
in perfect pitch which I cannot
replicate which left my chest and 
which was my only companion
as I left the promises made by 
the ever gripping ground 
behind me.
My candy apple sleigh elated to be free of 
a master- so EAGER!
Like a puppy out the front door.
A mad bull out the gate. 
A little boy learning to ride a bike
on a road so steep that he can't gain 
control of the brakes or his mind- too fast.
Me, my SKREEM, my deranged sled
skating toward things unlikely to move out of the way.
objects. nouns. heavy hard stuck masses of nouns.
A railroad tie ramp and a mailbox. Gone.
A metal handrail along a stair. Gone.
Car on ramp. Noise of resistant objects at war.
Me, my SKREEM, my lunatic locomotive
charging on like a baby on legs that
can only move faster to keep from falling.
A moment. A real-ization.
A telephone pole.
Simple thought. I am going to hit a telephone pole
like people who hit a telephone pole.
Taking of stock. Cost-benefit analysis.
Pros: maybe I'll just get a little bloodied up-
enough for some time extra time off work
work and school and we can play cards a while.
Cons: maybe I'll die.
Conclusion before impact:
COME ON THEN.
A wet sweat broke.
I was 
allowed to pass. Pass right by.
The rest was the rest.
I'm writing this, so the rest was the rest.
The tired tornado remembered it was just
a car for getting to work, getting food, getting kids.
Came to rest like a proper car.
A normal car. It even glided into someone's
driveway.
Me still shaking. Still skreeming. Still gone.
Not back yet.
Dripping with coffee like a lady in 
a coffee washing machine.
Me, my skreem, my life.
Intact.
As if I left the house to pick up
the answer to how I will face my death.
COME ON THEN.