Thursday, April 24, 2014

After your leaving

The days spin silently
and I am vacuous
in their wake
mindful of the practice
of living
but bereft 
I was not aware 
the depth of
minor rituals
and how our speaking them
to each other
pulled taut
at my sacred spaces
hemming me in
behind and before

The morning sun
falls flat 
stretching just long enough
to find the dirt smear
on the tile
I rub it halfheartedly with my toe
but nothing changes

I heard about the hummingbirds
how they have returned
seeking nectar 
how they eat just enough
to fuel their flight
each minute

So I retrieved the feeders
their red bases 
faded from so many days
in the sun
and I filled them to the brim
sweet and dripping
A small but mighty

The land of the living
is full of such sacraments
Soon I will walk
Until then
I will just gaze upon my



  1. Oh Holly, you write beautifully even in grief. Especially in your grief. Your mother infuses your writing from the heavens. You absorb the beauty of life and loss and pour it out with amazing grace. DM'ing you for your address for a longish note to you, love. Thinking of you at this time and always. This is a mantle of love over your days in the grieving and recovering from loss. You write of a hope which whispered from your poet's pen, gives promise to us all.

  2. There is something about grief that deepens our sight and our words. I found it when my own mom died. This is truly beautiful.

    "They eat just enough to fuel their flight each minute."in your grief, you're feeding many with your words--and I suspect yourself as well. xoxo

  3. Holly..."the morning sun falls flat....nothing changes." Grieving with you and living in the gift of a day in a lifetime. Hugs....n

  4. Deep breath. Gorgeous, Holly. Thank you.