Friday, January 25, 2008

Poem about Rachel

It's been almost six months since Rachel passed.



Feline Distractions

Mr red-haired daughter never looked this way.
Many are those who walk about in fear.
I get stoned and watch the catsies play.

Alive and stoned she looked, well, I can't say--
Sometimes rubbery from ear to ear!
My red-haired daughter never looked this way.

I kneeled, trimming dahlias where she lay,
Weeping, yes, but I was useful there.
I get stoned and watch the catsies play.

I'm not escaping, besides, there's no escape
From her long, oval face freckled in prayer.
My red-haired daughter never looked this way.

There's more than reconstruction underway.
Foundations are uprooted everywhere!
I get stoned and watch the catsies play.

How cold her lips were! (Pardon the cliche'!)
We paused to stroke her shining coppery hair.
My red-haired daughter never looked this way.
I get stoned and watch the catsies play.


Feel free to criticize the poem. It's just a first draft, I can't judge its quality.

I have given myself permission to take whatever medications make me feel better, even if some question their medicinal value. There is nothing I take that has not been used medicinally, of course.

I'm working at accepting my illness. That's where one must always begin.

"Expect less and accept less."


6 Kilorats,

Craig Erick

1 comment:

  1. empress2299:44 AM PST

    This is a beautiful poem. I love the numbing repetition of the disassociative (thanks for the word) image watching the cats. The image of the dahlias makes we weep -- I'll never forget them and your struggles to arrange them for Rachel.

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