Here's a fine poem by Chris Forhan of Indiana, about surviving the loss of a parent, and which celebrates the lives that survive it, that go on. I especially like the parachute floating up and away, just as the lost father has gone up and away.
What My Father Left Behind
Jam jar of cigarette ends and ashes on his workbench,
hammer he nailed our address to a stump with,
balsa wood steamship, half-finished--
is that him, waving from the stern? Well, good luck to him.
Slur of sunlight filling the backyard, August's high wattage,
white blossoming, it's a curve, it comes back. My mother
in a patio chair, leaning forward, squinting, threading
her needle again, her eye lifts to the roof, to my brother,
who stands and jerks his arm upward--he might be
insulting the sky, but he's only letting go
a bit of green, a molded plastic soldier
tied to a parachute, thin as a bread bag, it rises, it arcs
against the blue--good luck to it--my sister and I below,
heads tilted back as we stand in the grass, good
luck to all of us, still here, still in love with it.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c) 2008 by Chris Forhan from his most recent book of poetry "Black Leapt In," Barrow Street Press, 2009, and reprinted by permission of Chris Forhan and the publisher. Poem first appeared in "Pleiades," Vol. 28, no. 1, 2008. Introduction copyright (c) 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
Add a comment
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
Love poems like this as they rekindle memories of our love ones now gone. Thanks for posting this work.
-
Over time, the 'things'--the jam jar, the hammer, the steamship, will probably be lost. But the memories he built in the lives of his family can be a force for confidence, capacity, and integrity long afterwards, even into the next generation. Lovely thought, "good luck to all of us, still here, still in love with [life]." Even in our times of sorrow, there is much beauty in the world, and much to be grateful for.
Thanks for sharing, Kevin. -
Thanks Kevin, for introducing him to us
-
His legacy of the living kind does indeed survive him. As do the many memories of craft projects he left. If we keep those departed in our loving thoughts we embrace,the do live on. His mark of life was made and shall survive him.Those little seeming insignificant things left after they have passed reminds me of my own loss of my Mother when I was 12. Her hairbrush still lay on the dresser with sparse strands of her hair. Things she had done in decorating our home making it a home. And us of course. Beautiful verse.
-
Love the poem
-
hmm.. i like that poem
Thanks for sharing Kevin
Adding your comment:
1 - 6 of 6
