Today’s prompt is departure. This poem feels darker, more fatalistic, than I think I feel. Last week, my husband mentioned that our eldest child, almost 9, is halfway through his childhood. I think that shadowed this poem. Still, while I don’t think the emotional tone is entirely accurate for my own state, it feels “true” at some level.
There is an art to the departure,
a craft to the act of letting go,
of settling your heart.
It’s an art.
Where do we start the grieving,
the leaving and unleaving,
separating this from that part?
Where do we start?
But when you burn it down
to its essentials, it’s all about
preparing for departure
in the end.
Perhaps you can extend
small blisses and delights,
the moments in the middle,
when you’ve lit
the brightest lights, the candles,
flames of memory,
names written on your heart.
Still, all is moving toward the ending,
veering ever to a newer,
where other lights will glimmer,
illuminate new memories,
new pathways, new strivings.
Departure is inevitable,
but so is arrival.
1. Grandma Weaver’s spinach balls
2. Hay rides (Joss and I rode the hay wagon at Flinchbaugh’s 4 times today!)
3. Wind flowers and speedwell
4. Sleeping in
5. People who keep me accountable to doing the inner work.
May we walk in Beauty!