Dorothy

It has come to my attention
that I have forgotten
the day of the year my sister died
even though it was the first day of spring
easy enough to remember.
And thus it passed by this year
without commemoration.
Upon reflection then
it seemed…perhaps…
necessary for survival.
How to get up out of
the dark, deep, dank well
of grief and choose
to live
without her.

Now, aware again
tears flowing again
but perhaps
more resilient now
than I was then
I can allow myself
to remember.

One thing I have to say
it may not have happened that way
an interpretive dance
from this precise distance
on this particular summer day.

I know I spoke of her sometimes
I know I cried sometimes.

I know I was recovering from
a total knee replacement
a big deal.

I know the country
has gone crazy and
the world is in disarray

the wars and starvation
the fires, droughts, storms and floods and
other diminutions of free-flowing energy.

When I asked her, nearing the end
what she was most afraid of, she said
that she would be forgotten

not knowing how deeply
and longingly and widely
she would be missed.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2025
 
From my poetic journal, 7/12/25