I wrote this poem on June 11, 2012 in the period following my mother’s death. It is about regret, not specifically about my mother, but about those friends I’ve lost or let go throughout the years.
The closeness … when it happens
to erase the years of distance
We live our lives as children
and name our heroes,
move on beyond the corners
of our own space and time
to where we are safe
and cannot be bothered by the closeness
And there they are, in ordinary glory,
a ladle for a sceptre, a kerchief for a crown
What once was straight is crooked
What once was dark is gray
What once was firm is soft
The circle closed and I missed it
I stood outside and wondered where it went.