para mi abuelita Olga, que en paz descanze
She’s standing in the room alone
surrounded by possessions that own
her name,
and she’s wondering aloud
what the rain felt like
a hundred years ago
and a thousand loves away.
When it takes her by surprise;
a memory of being young
and drowning in the laughter
of a game.
And it’s impeccable, this moment
how her imperfections carry her away.
She’s lost her troubles,
become unburdened,
forgets the days her tears
used to salt her grace.
Looking straight ahead
she laments
“I don’t know what’s
worth remembering anymore.
I don’t know why I stored
any of these thoughts.
What are they good for?
What could I have done –
to make things different?
to be the hero?
to take possession of my dreams?
What should I have known
to have an answer
for loneliness and sorrow
to cast away tomorrow knowing
yesterday should be enough –
it should fill me up and let me be complete.”
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.
I love this. You captured it beautifully.
Thank you for saying so. It was very sad to watch her slipping those last several years.
[...] Here Now I stumbled across a beautiful poem by HT Wilson on a blog called “Words With No Names.” The poem is called [...]
Beautiful!
I like the spacing of the lines… it allows each line to breathe and I think works to give the entire poem movement and a life. The form of the poem reminds me of aging for some reason.
“to take possession of my dreams?” – What a question.
Good stuff, as always.
I think beautiful is the most appropriate word to describe this poem.
That is such a beautiful poem. So gentle and so carefully made.
Thank you very much for saying so. I hope you find other posts you like.
This grows more beautiful with each reading. A lovely treasure.
Needless to say, ‘Cancion’ made me cry. It’s tender, it’s sweet and so, so sensitive. It reminds me of what I have always loved about you.
Brad and Jeannie
You both make me blush … thank you for your wonderful feedback and encouraging words.