Now to the last of the prompts for murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt. Thank you, dear Muri, for your behind-the-scenes work. Having 13-plus prompts at my fingertips is like being treated to a buffet, and I spent a wonderful week feasting. (Write in haste; post at leisure!) Below is an Anna (in English “Rest in Peace”) followed by a Dr. Stella (in English, “Hope Conquers All”). Peace to your ♥!
Requiescat in Pace
I have not cried,
and what that signifies
is squat. The priest who judged my faith
matured when tears came once was equally
amiss. I navigate the deeps
of faith and loss and love
without a map.
Spes Vincit Omnia
He came; he saw; he conquered. Good
For Caesar. Were he touring
Today, he might go back to bed
And bow his head and pray
His gods his soul to keep. I would
Despair, but hope, enduring
In spite of gloom, subdues my dread.
Vast hope, not just a ray.
Murisopsis’s poetry scavenger hunt prompt #12: Write a Jay’s Way or a poem using a bird metaphor. I’m keenly aware that discontent with one’s washing machine is small in the scheme of things, although I really miss my old front-loader (today’s larger models won’t fit in the space we have), and the lint I reference is a lot, and it just makes me want to go waaaahhhh.
a trough of despond
I can’t see beyond
I’m missing how things were–before covid, before my parents died, before a lot of other changes that have taken place in my/our world. Peace to our ♥s!
Remembrance of Things Past
to miss a washing machine:
top loader, front loader, both get the clothes clean,
but the lint on the screen is more now,
and I don’t care how
there are loads
where women handwash
and air-dry day in, day out. By gosh,
I’m tired of adjusting! There’s been too much change,
mixed feelings to rearrange.
the little bird
who told him.
All those months of hospice
I pictured us easing into goodbye:
Family gathered at the end,
taking turns holding your hand.
Then you died suddenly alone,
leaving us empty-handed.
This is my sijo that placed second in the adult division of the Sejong Cultural Society’s 2022 Writing Competition. (To see all the winning entries, click here.) I wrote it the week after my mom died, little knowing it would be the first poem in what has become my Afterdeath collection. Peace to our ♥s!