In Memoriaum can be found at
Cold. The boomerang of granite like a wound.
Waiting at the east end for my group of touring
teens, the quiet unbroken. An elderly man, sharp
in a khaki overcoat and a ranger’s beret, leans
on a cane with his left hand, salutes with his right,
and crumples into tears. Misty. Dark. No one but
me to see him. I put my arm around his broad
shoulders, ask if he is okay, if he is alone.
He nods yes to both, turns into my shoulder
like a frightened toddler and weeps. He lingers,
muttering – so many memories, so many gone.
He is not ashamed, and I am not afraid.
For a moment, we are connected, his pain
comforted and diffused by the simple act
of noticing. From the time we are young, we
are taught not to trust, not to talk to strangers.
But imagine that this man was your father, your
grandfather, alone with his grief in a ungrateful
world. You would not just watch him suffer. You
would reach out – you would give him your hand
We hope you have enjoyed reading this week’s selection. Each week we select a poem from one of our members which we feel is a wonderful read. It is the poetry penned by our members and their willingness to share that is the core of our community. If you enjoyed reading this poem we can guarantee there will be many more like it so be sure to stop by next week and read the poem that has been selected for your reading pleasure.
By Mary Kling, author of the blog In the Corner of My Eye