Dark yellow, or: Jaded

Poetry Partners #97

‘Dark Yellow’, a poem by Kathy Labrum McVittie of ‘writingpresence’

Tomorrow she will die again
Slip-sighing into eternity
And I will catch my breath again
At the shrill of the phone in the night.

Tomorrow she will lie again,
Becalmed in a sea of flowers
And I won’t know
How to cope with primrose sunshine.

Tomorrow I’ll get out of bed,
Brush spearmint between my teeth,
Flush away the waste of care
And step outside yet one more time.

A poem by ben Alexander of ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’

Tomorrow he will die again
Again, his heart will cease beating
And my heartrate will rise again
At that Saturday night message.

Tomorrow he will lie again,
In a jade, unfamiliar yard
And I won’t know
How to reclaim belied bearings.

Tomorrow I’ll get out of bed,
Take his grandchild to school again,
Imagine him holding her hand
And wonder what life's left to bear.

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

List of Poetry Partners

28 thoughts on “Dark yellow, or: Jaded”

  1. These brought back still vivid memories of devastating loss – a phone ringing at night still brings me out in a cold sweat over thirty years later. Beautifully written pieces.

  2. There is no timetable for grief –
    it is a ritual of love performed each morning, as the tower of grace grows stronger, there is movement, until courage appears; for us to get up and get out of bed.
    Poignant stanzas from the both of you.
    So brave to break through, stare upon the blank page and allow your hearts to bleed, to love and to grieve. Thank you.

  3. And as the anniversary of my father’s death approaches I tear up reading these 2 poems. It is a universal occurrence – the letting go and the carrying on…

    1. May your tears hep you to release another layer of pain; may you be comforted by knowing that yes, each of us learns this letting go, and each of us is companioned, however tentatively, in the carrying on. Hugs.

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