His Softness
What name would survive
had you not stepped into the water
that day? Memory assigned
a separate word, another given,
and the face I’d placed with you
appeared in front of me
fifteen years later, in another
setting, miles away
and still breathing. How
may I honor you
if not by name? I recall
the gray ocean and how
umbrellas struggled in
the wind, and reading
in the weekly newspaper
a month after
that you had never emerged.
Now your name still lies there,
somewhere, under the surface,
unattached yet moving with
the current, and I,
no matter how I strain,
can’t grab it. Time after time,
it slips away. Just slips away.
.* * *
“His Softness” was published in January 2016 in the inaugural edition of MockingHeart Review, and reappeared here in July 2016.
Incredibly moving and beautifully spoken. Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you, Angie. Much appreciated.
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so very tender…thank you.
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You’re very kind, Nancie. Thank you.
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Great stuff 🙏
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Thanks very much!
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Haunting in the clarity of “gone”, yet wide open vague enough to wrap around my own loss. Thank you. Hearing you read this increases its power.
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Loss is universal. I’m pleased to have left enough space for you to join your loss to that of the poem’s. And thanks again for your kind comments!
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Poetica incarnate: to breathe on behalf of those rendered breathless; to honor their names with the gift of your voice.
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Memory’s shade drawn, then released…
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I liked this when I first read it; I like it better when you read it.
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A high compliment, Mary. Thank you.
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A very well done tribute! So hard to lose a loved one especially in such a manner as this.
Dwight
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Thank you, Dwight.
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Beautiful.
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Thank you, Jan. Much appreciated.
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I wish I made more insightful comments. I’m working on it. 🙂
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Oh, me too! 🙂
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I have the hardest time writing comments!
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Truly beauttiful.
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So pleased you find it so, Charles. Thank you.
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Love “the current, and I” – such a perfect description of that feeling, Robert. A fine example of show-don’t-tell. You put me there. Wonderful writing, mate 🙂
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Thanks, Ryan. That lesson took a while to drill into my brain, but it finally got through. 🙂
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“somewhere, under the surface,
unattached”
We try so hard to give the appearance of having it all together or belonging. But you beautifully point out that we are free under the surface of that which we create as a mask or shell. Unattached to any one thing, free to simply be. So much truth comes from loss, so thank you for sharing.
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You are very kind. Thank you for reading!
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How heart-wrenching but you have performed magic with your words.
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Thank you, Kate. Sometimes the words fall into place…
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I read this then I listened to you speak it. So very moving and somehow haunting. Loved it.
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Thank you, Miriam.
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Your voice really delivers the lament of that last line.
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Thanks, Ken.
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