Melting, a poem by Gerry Stefanson at Spillwords.com
Timothy Dykes

Melting

Melting

written by: Gerry Stefanson

 

Melting, our daughter asked us when a toddler,
is that what death is?
Now that, here today, gone tomorrow approach,
resonates louder than most responses.
She is now a mother,
and the questions come.

Melting, now in my life
makes more sense.
Then most explanations, rationalizations, or holy stuff.
Grasping this concept
is somehow freeing?
This I can visualize,
even the tactile,
slipping away, yet still in a presence.

Though a dozen plus years, later
after being seasoned a bit more to death,
or so we thought.
We were proven incorrect.
She, us, we, and I
lost her brother.
In a way, maybe misplaced him.
But he melted,
and melted does not come back.

Now, miles down the road,
I think of the melted I’ve known.
Family, friends, neighbors, and casual acquaintances.
All those loved ones.
Now, my always and ever so smart daughter,
will engage her daughter and they too,
will discuss melting.
I trust all the pro’s and con’s.
The trek of grief, hope, and future.

I know others who will melt,
sadly before their time, at their time
and maybe, pass by their best before date.
Then one day I’ll melt.
Then, I may learn the answer to her question.

Gerry Stefanson

Gerry Stefanson

Born and raised on the prairies of Manitoba Canada, along the Red River and just south of Lake Winnipeg. Then Alberta and ten years in the Rockies, just above Montana. The last decade in the Canadian Gulf Islands. People, ideas and stories set the stage of my poetry and writing. Music and art fill my days and verse fills my head. I feel the fortunate one and share this world with my life partner.
Gerry Stefanson

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