Posts Tagged 'memories'



Silver Angel

Silver Angel

Her frame bent like the cane she trusts,

The weight of years then bows her head,

In shuffling shoes she creeps along,

The squinted eyes cast toward her bed.


No daughter’s touch guides shaky steps,

No children’s laughter cheers her face,

The silent roar of nothingness

Dwells with her in this dark place.


But count the keen lost memories,

The golden grace her soul must hide,

And never share the tales of loving

Life when she was once a bride.


No diamond crown or noble court

Reserved for woman such as this,

’till God’s bright welcoming embrace

Shall bring her home to glorious bliss.

Hal C Clark – March, 2010

I was in a grocery store one day when I noticed an elderly lady pushing a shopping cart who seemed to be alone. She was using the cart for support and moving slowly. The lines of this poem began forming in my mind.

When I got home I wrote down my ideas and began putting them together. I have no idea of this lady’s circumstances, but this is the image my mind produced. In our fast-paced society, we are not always aware of the needs of our seniors, who try to maintain some dignity in spite of their handicaps.

It isn’t pleasant to be forced to ask for favors from others. I try to remain aware of the people around me (as, I am sure, all writers do) and make myself available whenever it is called for. But I must remind myself to allow them their space so they can feel that sense of independence. It is an important balance.

Serenity

Serenity

A scent is wafting on

The winds of my mind,

Faint and distant:

Memories of a sun-filled

Summer day long past.

Silver colored lichen rocks,

Clear tumbling streams,

And I in the middle,

In the company of

My thoughts.

Elation buoys me in

The purity of all

Elements surrounding me.

God shows His face in

Every perfect part.

I am at rest in

The serenity of

His arms and

I am assured of

His presence

Hal C. Clark

Summer 2007

I love sitting out on a pleasant summer day, soaking in nature through all my senses, being free of all man-made noises and objects. I have had only one true solo experience, high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, hearing no human sounds, seeing no man-made structures. It is an experience that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I couldn’t bring myself to write anything about that trip, but this poem was written sitting beside the Poudre River, sitting near a group of pines, soaking up the warmth of the sunshine.

Some people feel the need to be around others at all times, but my heaven is blissfully peaceful and quiet. I like to exist only as an observer and see nature as if I weren’t there, as if I had no effect on my surroundings. Impossible? Sure, but I can dream, can’t I?

I am thankful there are still a few natural areas around the United States. I hope and pray we can save a few for my grandkids in case they, like me, look for serenity.

Memories

Memories

 

Fly away Sam.

Let your spirit soar and

Explore the wondrous world you once knew.

Your spirit is free,

But your memory lives in me.


Sam was a neutered male Siamese cat who once lived with us. He came to us fully grown, long and leggy, having a personality I instantly admired.

We had a female Siamese already in the house and she guarded her house with a passion. She would hiss and growl when Sam walked by and he would simply look at her as if to say “Who put their galoshes in your lemonade” and walk on. That was typical of his attitude. He ignored conflict if he had any choice about it for as long as he lived with us.

The female eventually moved with my daughter to an apartment and Sam stayed with us and he was a delight to have around. But there came a day when he was less active and wasn’t eating. The diagnosis came back: feline leukemia.

I didn’t want to let him go. His illness came at a time of transition in my own life, and this was my first real conflict with death. This was a conflict I couldn’t avoid. I tried to give him the medication and get some fluids and nutrients down him, but with less and less success. He seemed to look at me and ask “Why are you tormenting me?” He didn’t understand that I was trying to help.

We came to a point where it was obvious death would win. It was pointless to continue distressing him, so I took him to put him to rest. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I hated losing to this disease.

After we buried him, I just couldn’t let it go. All the conflict was still inside, churning through my mind. From somewhere came the small verse above and I was thankful for it. It gave me a sense of continuity, a partial victory.

Over the years, I lost track of the poem in my notes and couldn’t remember all the words until last night. In the middle of the night, I woke with all the words in my head just as I had written them so many years before. I got up and wrote them down. Why did they come back to me? I don’t know, but I felt I should share the story. Maybe someone else will identify with this story and be helped. I invite and welcome your comments. Please share.

Hal C Clark, March 2010


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