The Light
An instructional poem
There will be a light,
nothing spectacular,
but one you cannot ignore, as that light-
the one that only you can see,
holds more than the ashes of death,
and has been ignited long ago.
-
There, inside that light,
is where your father stands,
his back glowing orange while the rest of the world remains dark,
you'll want to run-
to embrace the depths of memory,
to hold the pain of loss,
but you mustn't, not yet,
for he isn't really there,
you know that.
-
The light will never flicker,
like the eyes of your father,
it will never waver in its heat,
unlike the body growing cold,
so, sit back,
and gaze for as long as you'd like,
this is what it means to mourn.
-
The light, it will never dim,
even when your eyes grow sleepy from the warmth,
and you focus on other small lights instead,
your father's back will remain ignited,
even when his face, distorts dark as smoke,
and that dimming-
please be warned,
permanent and bright,
remains in the corner of your life,
because that's what it means to mourn.
About the Creator
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More stories from Kera Hollow and writers in Poets and other communities.
After the Storm
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
I share some similar sentiments however this made me thing of a relationship that hides from each other truth; the father and the child are perhaps not great at communicating-and they have sides to their interacts whether those feed the fire or now or allow the light or dark to shine…beautiful
That moment where you say “you’ll want to run—to embrace the depths of memory—but you mustn’t, not yet” stopped me for a second. It felt like the exact discipline grief demands but never explains, that strange instruction to stay with the warmth without collapsing into the pain. The image of his back glowing while his face darkens later really stayed with me too—it felt honest in a way that’s uncomfortable but gentle at the same time. When you wrote this, did the light feel like comfort to you, or more like something you’re forced to learn how to live beside?
This was incredibly poignant And as someone who lost their dad last year who I was estranged from, it mirrors a lot of the feelings I've had since his death. Well done on such a beautifully handled, mature poem about grief and mourning Congrats on Top Story and a truly exceptional entry to the challenge.
❤️
Beautifully sad. My estranged father recently passed. Poignant & reflective.
Power to the Light Hugs to fathers. BLESSINGs to life