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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 . . .

 

NO

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

broken.

Please

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.