Wednesday, September 21, 2011

creases and folds

you could see
the depth
of the man
in the creases
around his eyes and mouth

he was a sensitive
and kind man

a caring man

you knew that

he was a man who you could say left too soon
but really, he left as soon as he was ready

when he finally flew away
his wife inherited the creases
that defined his presence
and layered them above and beside her own
for safekeeping

his children
placed the creases
into words
and life

unfolding folds
carefully pressing the creases
to a sharper edge

because so much
- so much -
of what he left
was worthy and magic
and entirely of himself
and nothing else
and so deserving
of perfecting
and transporting beyond itself

i could wish -
and i live my wishes
as if they were already real

i could wish that he was still here
but his work was at a point
that required him to leave

i could wish
that people who reach a place
of such value
could be given more time
but i know that value
is driven by perspectives
that aren't entirely connected
to the larger piece of this place
and that is how
it's set up

and so i hold my memories
examine them periodically
confront them in my self
and test their veracity
let them go
hold them tight
hug them
when i see them fading

i am listening to omar faruk tekbilek as i write this.


Lorenzo — Alchemist's Pillow said...

Beautiful and very moving, Steven. The creases and folds of a face, of a mind, of memory.

R. Burnett Baker said...

Very timely. Yesterday I was thinking about that void, and remembering his voice. There are days that seem to amplify those memories.

I wonder why?


steven said...

thankyou lorenzo! steven

steven said...

rick - i sometimes think more deeply about my father than other. yesterday he was the subject of a discussion with my class. we were talking about heart health and it seemed natural to share my own experience with my father's health issues . . . . steven

Titus said...

Oh steven, The Bug has posted on her mother today. Strange congruences.

A post that made me reflect myself - over 20 years since my father died and I can still wake from a dream crying. Of course, for me, he did die far too young.
I'm remarkably impressed by your ability to value the time you had, and he had, and not wish for more.

Reya Mellicker said...

The ancestors are very vivid this year. This is their time. Our job is to listen, as you do so well Steven, and Dana (bug) and you, too, Titus. What is remembered, lives.

Ruth said...

I relate to this, big time, Steven. i know that value / is driven by perspectives / that aren't entirely connected / to the larger piece of this place . . . Yes. I feel this strongly, as I've seen a friend's 5-year-old granddaughter taken in an accident, a 36-year-old son of my BIL taken by a heart attack. Did they die "too soon"? Or was it their time in the larger piece of this place?

Valerianna said...

mmm... yes...

and Omar, too, he's been a great listen over the years!

hope said...

I sometimes think that's why I have a good memory...I re-visit old memories to mine them for lessons.

Nicely put, friend.

steven said...

ruth - you ask a question that aches inside of me. i don't have an answer - i wsh i was able to but i don't. i have seen children, young adults, old people fly away and really i don't know if it was their time or if their work was done. i know in my father's instance he had prepared one feature of his life for flying away but so much was left undone. steven