Featuring poetic beats, lyrical storytelling, and other assorted jazz.
That last morning, you woke me up when the light from the alarm clock was brighter than the sky outside. It didn’t bother me because I knew the clock had been winding down since January of last year, when I prayed that you’d see one last snow fall. You got your snow. You got your week by the sea. You played with the children you loved. Earlier this week you even got steak. So when I heard you whimper during the morning shift (Dad always takes the night shift) I lay down next to you. I rubbed your back until you felt better. And together we watched the sky lighten, waiting for Dad to get up and so we could that last morning walk together.
Song Choice: Cracker Jack by Dolly Parton
Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem is linked to the Friday Writings Prompt at Poets and Storytellers United. It was written for my sweet boy Kit, who crossed the rainbow bridge last Friday. I am grateful that our whole family was able to be in the room when it was time to say goodbye.
I often think about the still-born spring, three years ago, when it seemed like nothing would ever grow again—not even in our woods. The woods were lost girl met lost girl, years and years ago. We decided that it was safest to believe in magic to find the way through. We lifted moss-colored words from the banks of our creek to line our path and tucked stories into trees.
I wonder if the trees notice you are gone, when I go to pick up scraps of memories caught in the brambles by the creek. I wonder what the creek thinks when I try to weave those scraps into something recognizable, something that makes sense. Spring green should not be the color of grief, but even now, in the spaces where growth is undeniable, spring always arrives late for me.
Song choice: Gavi's Song by Lindsey Stirling
Liner notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storyteller United's Friday Writings Prompt, In Memoriam.
