“I can see him sitting there
so plainly on the kitchen chair,
cutting giblets for stuffing and gravy,
wanting help or company…”
From poem 32, “Thanksgiving Grieving,” in my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing. Listen here: https://youtu.be/1JMbsGNangA
I prepare in the moment for the day’s reading. Although I wrote the book and have read it many times, I don’t look ahead at what poems are coming. As it turned out, I was taken by surprise by today’s poem, “Thanksgiving Grieving,” which was very emotional to read. The first several times through I couldn’t get to the end without tears. I wanted to skip this one (who would notice, really?) and yet…
I’m committed to this task set out before me: one poem a day, from start to finish of “Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine.” It is not about perfect performance in an ideal world, rather it is you and me sitting at my old maple kitchen table and I’m reading as honestly and as best I can right then. My purpose in that moment is to deliver that poem. Always a part of me wants to get it “right.” Even if that is safer, it may not be as human, as healing, as powerful. I trust. I stay with my inner guides, breathe, do my best, and let it go, as open-hearted as I can.
Note: We are still at the beginning of the book. This poem begins a long narrative thread about our parents, my Dad who had passed on years before, and the other three remaining. All woven into the fullness of life.
Is there some loss you have already dealt with, that can overtake you unexpectedly? Blessings.