*a poem by Dorianne Laux; more about Laux below
Death comes to me again, a girl in a cotton slip.
Barefoot, giggling. It’s not so terrible, she tells me,
not like you think: all darkness and silence.
There are wind chimes and the scent of lemons.
Some days it rains. But more often the air
is dry and sweet. We sit beneath the staircase
built from hair and bone and listen
to the voices of the living.
I like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair.
Especially when they fight, and when they sing.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorianne_Laux. This poem originally appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review and was later published in Laux’s book Smoke, published in 2000 by Boa Editions, Ltd.
TBH, I think this poem struck me because I just binge watched the 2nd season of Wednesday, in which graveyards and ghosts or ghostly apparitions are featured. Who says pop culture doesn’t spur deep thought?! 😉 And perhaps, too, it held my attention because I encountered and read it in the fall; fall, and the cooler, darker days, always remind me that the fullness of life, and summer, must end, and that while we know spring and summer are returning, there is winter to be got through – winter being equivalent to the human season of old age, the loss of what I knew, including about myself. I bought a trampoline, and it is reminding me how unlimber and un-bouncy I am, even while I try daily to stay flexible in body and mind…Aging – the process of growing old, of accepting winter – is a privilege denied to many. As I bounce, I try to remember to be grateful – and stay in the middle of that damned thing!! So far so good.