Thursday, August 31, 2006

Learning by Repetition

Learning by Repetition

There have never been
enough balloons to do you justice.
Tuesday was no exception.

The rain left 12 Mylar hearts,
in screaming scarlet,

And then the sun came out.
It always does, doesn't it?
Even at your funeral.

When reverend Smith stopped eulogizing,
the rain stopped, and made steam
from damp lashes and soaked shirts.

That day though, later,
there were balloons.

They rose till they nearly disappeared,
became periods in distant eyes, because
there wasn't strength or conviction enough
for exclamation marks.

No, I was weak and young and quiet.
Now I've learned as all children learn best.
I've been taught the lesson of repetition.

I have stacked my periods one atop the other,
one longer, standing taller, but both
equally lost to the expanse of empty arms
and blue skies and hopelessness.

I know now that you are gone.

Despite the release,
regardless of punctuation,
all that is left are two short stories
and the blank page.

I will write your names,
over and over again, scatter them
to the winds of Autumn, and pray that,
like November leaf litter,
they become something fertile
and feed the springtime blooms
to become the rose corsage
pinned close to the heart
of another mother.


  1. *tears* My love to you Erin. There are no words that can express the intensity this holds. I love you.

  2. I've just realized that I was holding my breath while reading this.

    It's beautiful, Erin.

  3. Wow...I am touched as usual. It is so wonderful to know someone who has a deep heart and good soul. We hear you out here and so the stories live on. Please know that!


  4. Oh, E. It's not often that I read something that truly chokes me up by the end, and this did. Love you very much.

  5. This is a beautiful poem, so well written and heartfelt. It made me cry.