Monday, April 14, 2014

Survivors all have triggers we can’t avoid. I recently heard other mothers speak of the cereal aisle in the supermarket, a favorite piece of clothing, a spot on a crowded freeway. For me, it’s ads for the epic “Noah” movie that seem to be everywhere lately, reminders of our Noah and the biblical one . Are these ads triggering other family and friends? No, I think as I drive to an appointment or a meal with friends, I don’t want to think about that right now. This sends me down a rabbit hole of no’s and hurtles me back into the poetry I’ve been avoiding for a year. It's still rough, like the torn edges of pictures in the magnificent grief collages of Sharon Strouse . But I need to get this ‘no’ off my chest and out there where it can resound. To be continued . . .

Noah – his name blaring
from movie billboards, signs
of disaster at every turn. No
reminders please.
His name engraved
on a stone marker, rain collecting
inside the O’s. No --
this can’t be real.
No no NO -- my screams
that day. Not
my beautiful boy. No
hope. No
more. No knowing
what or why or how bad
or how to help. A no
that can never
be undone. A life
canceled, a mission
aborted, a family

no more no’s now --
just the sweet ones
we used to sing him as a baby--
When the No-no-noah goes
bob-bob-bobbing along.*

*Note: All poetry on this blog is original unless attributed to others.

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