Migration

migration_sep11

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20 thoughts on “Migration

    • Thanks Jennifer. For twenty five years I’ve carried and recalled fragments of the drive into town the day my dad died. The kestrel on the line a central part of the image. This morning I saw it again… when all of sudden I thought – wait a second – he died in January, the kestrels would have been long gone… and then the poem began to write itself.

      • Memory is such a tricky thing–the layers we add. I have a vivid picture of myself and my 3-year-old daughter staring out at the snow on the day my dad died. She asked me why I was sad–and this was many hours before we got the call. I’ve been writing around that one for years without being able to get it right.

    • A little slow on the draw, late on the reply here… thanks Audra! It was a very strange time. Devastating and celebratory (he was a very loved and storied man) And then to reflect back on it (often, over 20 some years) just adds another level of surrealism.

  1. Very moving piece. I like how you indirectly expressed emotions using nature and built an entire narrative around memory and migration. Have you ever read “The Moons of Jupiter” by Alice Munro? I’m reminded of it after reading your poem.

  2. A poem full of meaning for those of us who have experienced loss, or, better said, for all of us.The words “My father had died I knew/But was not fully aware” struck such a chord with me, describing perfectly my incomplete understanding of what it meant and would mean when each of my parents died.

    • Janet, I’m so glad you picked up on that line. It’s so central to the poem and circumstances both literal and otherwise. My father’s death was the first Great Loss of my life. I remember at the time my belief systems were destroyed. Not in an angry or bitter way – but rather in the clarity and impenetrability of the Mystery. The absoluteness of it. Thanks for coming by and for all of your comments. Hope you’re doing well.

      • I am well, Chris. The loss of my mom, my first Great Loss, changed my perspective. Your word “impenetrability” captures the realization that occupied, and still occupies, my mind when I think about death.

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