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Reflections on Grief (Free Verse)

We hear of endings
the last time
that last moment
saying goodbye
and yet,
no warnings of “firsts”
first Christmas
first New Year
first birthday
and many other firsts
who would have known
the last would turn full circle
to the first
being as tender as that last day
bittersweet in many ways
ingredients of woe
are recipes of grief.
how to separate sorrow
from blissful memories?
you don’t
it’s not planned
it’s processed
it’s lived
it’s worn
like an old hoodie
fitted like a soft duvet
feeling like a heavy blanket
struggling with the heaviness
of fond narratives of a past

ah but the weight one feels
of such collections that we sort
but carry oh so selfishly
letting go is not a language
yet understood…
hanging on to each noun, pronoun,
verbs and oh those adjectives!

Time does not lighten this quilt
but our heart becomes accustomed

weaving heartfelt stories
every shade and colour
securing them with bonded yarn
strong, everlasting scripts
never-ending stories
our heritage woven lovingly
… a family heirloom.

(c) Tournesol 2022-09-23

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Dear Emma,

Dear Emma,

Day 5 and I am still not able to talk …much.  It starts off hoarse, then disappears completely.  So naturally, I cannot work since I counsel on the phone.  Too much time to think.  I think about what I would  do when I do retire.   It has to be planned…a bit of travelling, volunteering, taking courses I’ve never had time to take, learning a new skill, dusting off and perfecting an old skill and all of this is done with human contact.  So you can see my dilemma, right?  For over two years we have been living in a world of no contact whatsoever to 2 metre human contact. Face masks are being removed tomorrow and I don’t see why except governments just want to appease the “fed-ups” and try to establish some form of normalcy.  Yes, masks do protect…both you and me.

Last week we had our dryer vents cleaned in our condo building for all 27 co-owners.  The 2 workers walked around with no masks, then saw my colleague and I had ours on, so one put his on and the other took a good 2 to 3 minutes searching for his ratty old cloth mask (to me did not give me confidence one bit).  And at each condo, the fellow would ask if he had to wear his mask.  Of course the answer was, “Yes, please and I will wear mine as well.”  I shook my head in dismay and made faces that no one could see thanks to my mask. Haha, there are good points to wearing a mask!

Speaking of masks and the reality we all live in, I try not to watch the news lately…makes me weep hearing anything bad and let’s face it, Emma, 99% of the news is bad. Correction, the media reports bad news in huge proportions.  It is interesting that we complain how governments have held us hostage for two years…but what about the media?  Have they not enjoyed this control? this total attention especially during total lock downs?  Anyway, to do the work that I love and to be able to have the strength to hear challenging true stories of pain, abuse and despair, I need to cut off the bad news, thank you very much.  The only news I can read about now and then is politics because that does not make me sad…it angers me and I feel a little less powerless….I can always vote, right?    I could protest as well but that means I may be putting my health at risk since, after all, I am of that more delicate generation where health is a bit more fragile.  So I sigh and give in to my fear of getting sick and stay home and shout at the tele and  swear at politicians.  I have given up writing to them because I never even get the courtesy of an acknowledgement.  I’m of the anglophone population, so they (all political parties) don’t really care.  We are such a minority that politicians are sucking up to the majority, the nationalists and the xenophobes.   The nationalists don’t scare me because many have a view for a separate nation but do not hate anglophones or allophones.  There is a difference, I think.  Most of my friends are francophones and nationalists but I don’t feel any animosity towards me.

It is interesting that the media talks about how my province has little tolerance to other cultures but that is actually a “condition” many people have all over Canada.  We like to look towards the South and see how our neighbours cough up venom towards  liberalism and democracy and acceptance and multiculturalism.  But Canadians are not lily white…not pure and innocent, I am afraid and this pandemic has brought out the true colours of many people.  The virus of intolerance we see in the South is here as well and that worries me. NO! That scares me.

I’m a baby Boomer and have much less time left on this earth than many but I worry for my children and their children.

Oh for goodness sake, Emma, this is turning into a sappy Dear Abby letter.  What was really on my mind when I started this post was after reading a headline this morning.  “Covid Numbers are going down in Quebec, 25 deaths”.  How is “25 deaths” supposed to make me feel relieved.  Every day I see similar headlines but it is the last 2 words that hit me each time.  “xx deaths”.  People are mourning their loved ones; each day there are still deaths and that is what saddens me. We no longer hear the premier saying, “sorry to the family and friends of xx deaths”.  That stopped a long time ago.  Why? Are these deaths less hurtful?  It’s all a strategy to focus more on the positive because people are depressed.  I know that! I hear the stories 3 days a week from youths and young adults…I know that! But still, each day there are losses. A person has lost a friend or relative.  They are mourning.  I wish I could say, ” I see you, I’m sorry for your loss.”

The CBC used to give space to people who had lost a family member to talk about their lives the first year of the pandemic and now…we no longer celebrate their lives here?

My thoughts and prayers go to the family and friends of those 25 deaths today …

Clr’2022-05-13

 

 

painful goodbyes (haibun)

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/08/29/photo-challenge-178/
© Barbara Florczyk

Saying goodbye can be so painful and that is what she did at the train station this evening. Idle chatter filled their last hour sitting on the platform waiting for the train.  When the whistle blew, LAST CALL…they both stopped talking.  They stared at each other for the longest two minutes without exchanging one word.  Their eyes searched into each other’s soul, trying to transcribe those heavy thoughts.  Their eyes swam in painful puddles…tears rolling down their cheeks…still, not a word.

The train’s engine started up and they simply hugged each other tightly for a brief moment and he picked up his valise and turned towards the train, never looking back.

Rather than take a cab home, she decided to walk the 10 kilometre passage on foot.

piercing emptiness
tearing at her heart
tears spill from heaven

©Tournesol’147/08/29

Written for MindLoveMiserysMenagerie – Photo Challenge

 

whispering promise (troibun)

©Clr’17

As a child August meant school was around the corner.  With mixed feelings she anticipated a new school year, that smell of fresh ink on new books, her best handwriting on that first page of her scribbler and so much promise to fill her mind…learning anew. Of course there were new students arriving in her little town and new relationships forming opening her heart she smiles, waiting with anticipation.   And yet, as months progress death looms in the air as leaves fall and grounds reek of decay…

 

The Troiku is a new haiku form created by Chèvrefeuille

(a troiku)

autumn leaves whisper
echoing
that first je t’aime

autumn leaves whisper
endings or new beginnings
paradox of life

echoing
mistakes repeated
over and over

that first je t’aime
fairy tale or mystery
still unresolved

©Tournesol’17/07/28

CDHK

Une mère par Linda Lemay

The prompt this week at Song Lyric Sunday Theme   is to Post a song about missing someone you love.  Let’s let them know how much we miss them and can’t wait to see them again.  In this post, I will never see this person again in this lifetime but hopefully, she will be greeting me when my time comes.  I did not translate the lyrics…Linday Lemay is a Québecois singer-songwriter who writes songs about life, day to day events, family and so much more.  If you want to get a taste of of the song, you can cut and paste it and translate it on Google Translate. It gives a rather fair to good translation.

This song starts with a mother coming home with her baby all the way  to   the end of her life.  It is very moving!

(c)'16
(c)’16

 

Une mère
Ça travaille à temps plein, ça dort un œil ouvert
C’est d’garde comme un chien
Ça court au moindre petit bruit, ça s’lève au petit jour
Ça fait des petites nuits.
C’est vrai, ça crève de fatigue
Ça danse à tout jamais une éternelle gigue
Ça reste auprès de sa couvée
Au prix de sa jeunesse, au prix de sa beauté.

Une mère,
Ça fait ce que ça peut, ça ne peut pas tout faire,
Mais ça fait de son mieux.
Une mère,
Ça calme des chamailles
Ça peigne d’autres cheveux que sa propre broussaille

Une mère,
C’est plus com’ le autres filles
Ça oublie d’être fière

Ça vit pour sa famille
Une mère,
Ça se confine au bercail
C’est pris comme un noyau
dans le fruit de ses entrailles

Une mère,
C’est là qu’ça nous protège
Avec les yeux pleins d’eau, les cheveux pleins de neige
Une mère,
A un moment, ça s’courbe, ça grince quand ça s’penche
Ça n’en peut plus d’être lourde
Ça tombe, ça se brise une hanche
Puis rapidement, ça sombre
C’est son dernier dimanche
Ça pleure et ça fond à vue d’oeil
Ça atteint la maigreur des plus petits cercueils
O bien sûr, ça veut revoir ensemble
toute sa progéniture entassée dans sa chambre
Et ça fait semblant d’être encore forte
Jusqu’à c’que son cadet ait bien r’fermé la porte
Et lorsque, tout’ seule ça se retrouve
Ça attend dignement qu’le firmament s’entr’ouvre
Et puis là , ça se donne le droit
De fermer pour une fois les deux yeux à la fois

Une mère ça ne devrait pas partir
Mais on n’y peut rien faire
Mais on n’y peut rien dire.

En savoir plus sur http://www.paroles.net/lynda-lemay/paroles-une-mere#OE1VbtBD6BUmO1TG.99

Click on Google Translate for an idea what this beautiful song says

In memory of Jane Reichhold – Aug. 7/16 (troibun)

© Clr '16
© Clr ’16

Walking home with her grandson after a wonderful day in the city,  she could not help but admire the sky. Once, her grandson was sound asleep, she read about the sad news…such a loss in the world of haiku. And then, she understood the mysteries of the sky tonight.

dash of white clouds
stand out
in the night sky

dash of white clouds
splash of goodness
wings of an angel

stand out
seventeen syllables
more or less

in the night sky
greets an angel with a smile
crescent moon

© Tournesol’16-08-07

And then she read this beautiful haiku  posted  by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, after she had written the above troiku.

without lights
the brightness of a blue sky
full of stars © Jane Reichhold

a star
stands outs tonight
for eternity

© Tournesol’16-08-07

shamanic journey
a red dragonfly comes
to guide the canoe © Jane Reichhold

new beginnings
only spirits see the path
still, unknown to us

© Tournesol’16-08-07

In memory of an artist, teacher and poet, Jane Reichhold.

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ca/2016/08/carpe-diem-extra-august-6th-2016-first.html
Chèvrefeuille – Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

weep not (troiku – Jennifer Hu inspired)

Hu, Jennifer (2014-10-30). The Flow of Peace: 40 Haiku inspired by Zen practice (October 2014) (Kindle Locations 18-19). . Kindle Edition.

Out my window
even the sky
will end. . .
© Jennifer Hu (The flow of Peace)

I’ve tried to create a troiku with Hu’s haiku:

Out my window
even the sky
will end. . .
© Jennifer Hu

out my window
a robin preys
fledglings chirp

even the sky
has its limits,
weeps

will end…
for a season – only,
weep not

© Tournesol’15

haunting fragrance (haibun)

© Clr '14 June
© Clr ’14 June

Walking alone by the river he remembers this time years ago, holding her soft hand. They kissed one last time.

magenta glow
river mirrors sun’s adieu
scent of lily haunts

© Tournesol ’15

CPHK