Last Friday night, I did a thing. I read three of my latest poems at an open mic night at the Horsham Township Library, where I belong to a Poetry Writing Group. The last time I read was probably a year ago, and about 15 people were listening. This time, about 40 people attended. The large number in attendance was mostly due to a fellow group member debuting his first chapbook of poetry (very exciting).
What made this experience a little nerve-wracking was that I was reading three poems that emerged from my grief processing. Since I was reading to so many people who were not in the group and did not know my story, I had to preface my reading by telling them about Chuck’s death and how long we had been together.
When it was my turn to read, my hands were shaking more than normal. (I have familial tremors that really kick in when my adrenaline is high.) At first, I placed my hands flat on the podium, but that felt very unnatural. I remedied that by clasping my hands behind my back as I read poems two and three.
I managed to make it through my backstory and all three poems without tears, and received very nice feedback from several attendees I had never met before. Below are the three poems I shared, and I would like to share them with you. You may have read the first one in one of my first posts about the loss of Chuck, the love of my life.
Piracy
Cancer came like a marauding pirate
Cunning, ruthless,
Pillaging my lover’s body
Plundering life as I knew it.
No time to climb to the crow’s nest
And plan for the fight
No time to batten down the hatches
We were hit broadside.
Casting me into a sea of devastation,
I am a rudderless vessel,
whirling in an eddy of grief
unable to fathom the loss.
A veil of sadness covers my days
Marooned on an island of despair
My body anchored to the weight of my grief
Dehydrated from the deluge of tears.
Adrift and disoriented
I am lost in the daily struggle
of disbelief and loneliness
Drowning in heartache and pain
Now That You’re Gone
Our keystone has been removed.
Now what?
Who will hold the family together?
Who will hold me together,
Now that you are gone?
Who will –
Sniff the milk and tell me not to drink it,
and leave paper towels scattered around the kitchen for me to put in the trash,
or cook me five-star dinners
Now that you’re gone?
Who will –
I tell to pull up their pants and use a belt,
And watch Phillie’s games with me
Or yell at the TV on football Sundays
Now that you’re gone?
Who will –
Have me watching WWE on Monday nights because I am too lazy to go into another room,
Or start watching a movie with me and then fall asleep
Or steal the covers
Now that you’re gone?
Who will –
Water the plants and prevent me from murdering them
And listen to me vent
Or be my biggest champion
Now that you’re gone?
Who will –
Fill my car with gas
and tires with air
Or my life with purpose
Now that you’re gone?
You Got It
You got it.
You got it.
You got it.
That’s what everyone keeps telling me,
but I don’t got it.
I don’t want it.
I may never have it.
They tell me how well I am doing,
and I deflect with a joke
Too afraid, too vulnerable
To reveal what’s going on.
You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!
A perfume bottle from 1995
stares at me from the dresser
daring me to cry.
You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!
What was once easy –
without a second thought
has become complex and tiring
getting locked out
a broken storm door handle
dashboard lights I haven’t seen before
All can invoke tears.
You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!
People offer advice
for a fresh start I never asked for.
But who are we to decide?
Who are we to choose?
You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!
But, I’ll try.
I believe I am on an endless journey that will take me to many parts of my heart and memories – familiar and unfamiliar. Grief does not have a destination; it is more like a traveling companion that you have to learn to live with.
Rita DiCarne 