Monday, August 25, 2014

Carla


All it took was the sound of her name
embodied in the other
or the arrival of August
for the memory to return
and melancholy crept back slowly
into the house of her belonging

From time to time she saw her
just for an instant
in the busy mall
the old growth forest
even in Milan
but not often, and sometimes not for years

Or did she imagine she saw her
it was hard to say
for the presence of energy
like the presence of the divine
is the ineffable mystery
beyond ones measure to recall

As the years multiplied
and they became thirty
Cat remembered she too was thirty
when the infant came
but all that was left was frozen
grandmother, mother, child

A holy trinity of profound grief
that tragic, guttural, primal wail
discreet hurried nurses
shocked silence
stillness
a painful endurance

What stays is what remains
long limbs
translucent skin
fine features
indelibly pressed into the spaces
between the spaces of her mind

Where are you now little soul
who whispers to you in the night
and fills your cup with hope
does your heart hunger
for the promise of a peaceful world
when will you come again?
CARLA BURCHALL

27 August 1984



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