On the wings of farewell

To the friend I never knew.

Yesterday was full of sun,
a song of birds and new leaves,
gold dandelion-wash swept the green,
a marten acrobated squirrel fashion
through the trees.

I spoke to children,
checked in, checked up,
wrote and cooked.
I walked while sun sunned
and ladybirds studded the panes
of open windows.

I didn’t know that a piece had gone
from the pattern, a small star fallen.
Perhaps the sparrowhawk shrieked it
or the rowdy jays, but I didn’t hear
your last breath fade and float,
a whisp of the past drifting free.

 

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

26 thoughts on “On the wings of farewell”

  1. Oh! Jane this is so perfect, Sue must be exhausted, she touched every single one of us as she past.
    She is up on those Moors now happy and pain free.💜💜

    1. In the book I was reading last night a hopeless case is let out of the sanatorium because they need the bed and told he’ll have to rest for at least another six months before he can go back to work. Six months seems like forever. If he knew he wouldn’t live another six months, it would seem like the blinking of an eye.

      1. They definitely pretend to know more than they actually do. A lot of medicine is guesswork, and a good doctor is one who has good intuition.

  2. Oh, dear. Your poem is so lovely and so sad and so exactly how it is to lose someone that you didn’t really know. In all my years of blogging, I probably had one interaction with Sue Vincent, but I remember her as kind and gracious … and prolific. What a loss to the world.

    1. She made us feel as though we did know her, which in a way, is the same thing. You can meet people and talk to them on a regular basis and not exchange a single meaningful thought.

  3. Thank you for the remembrance, Jane! She went too fast. Its always horrible to think on the fact of humans determined lives. I dont remember who said, but every sleep is a piece of death. Michael

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s