Carol, a poem
“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art . . . it has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.” C.S. Lewis
Moon-glister spilled itself over
The city the night you died,
The night the fire of your life
Leapt into the heavens to, no
Doubt, make minestrone for
The angels . . .
You left the good and not so
Good, your fave armchair for
Thursday Coffee Klatch and the
Walker you found so awkward
You left us too, your neighbors
And friends, we’ll miss your wide
Smiles and throaty laughter, the
Roll of your eyes, your dry humor
Your singular irreverence . . .
© 2020, Jamie Dedes
During the night of May 12 we lost a neighbor and friend. By “we” I mean all of us here at this apartment building where I live, which is adapted for disabled elders. Our friend’s name was Carol. She had a stroke . . . and Yes! she was droll and irreverent but also thoughtful and generous. I am largely bound to my apartment and often to my bed, but Carol would pop in for a little chin-wag and would bring me some of her fabulous minestrone. Pre-COVID-19 when we still had Thursday Coffee Klatch, Carol would stake out comfy chairs for us both and hold mine until I arrived. Since Thursday Coffee Klatch was held on my floor, I only had to travel a few feet to attend. It was doable.
The hardest thing about growing old is not aging. It’s not the proximity of one’s own death. It’s the unremitting loss of relatives, neighbors and friends. One day you wake up to find so many are gone.
- About /Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook / Medium / Ko-fi
- 2020 Poet Laureate of Womawords Literary Press
- The Wombwell Rainbow interviews Jamie Dedes
Your donation HERE helps to fund the ongoing mission of The Poet by Day in support of poets and writers, freedom of artistic expression, and human rights.
Poetry rocks the world!
FEEL THE BERN
For Peace, Sustainability, Social Justice
Maintain the movement.
“Democracy is not a spectator sport.”
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton