Elegy for Jerry
So, like darkness upon the white froth of an opening sea, you stood inside the med. room, fan blowing your autumn hair, I saw you in a nest of paper, writing reports, though you had time to read my poem, you paused, pen to mouth, eyes sharp, like kind opals, you preparing for retirement, a vacation back East, then to Oregon, for the final resting of roots, but you rocked back into the darkness, the laid presence of a woman who cared for people, now the shape fading, hiding in the recesses of memory, no! some things cannot be forgotten, the awe-struck smile of your tiny lenses that you wore especially to do meds., the quietness of your manner, mellow and calm, you always the first to listen to the complaints of others, with the advice of years, experienced in your work, but there are people who don't listen, you cared, you worked hard and made others listen to you, not outspoken, but through and through the calm utterances of a woman who clarifies the situation, who lends a voice to the patience that is the opposite of chaos, I cannot believe that you have finally left for good, a sadness holds my lungs, stretches in my skin, and yawns for the stolen moment to come again, no longer a goodbye, but a farewell, for you see in saying goodbye we really mean hello at some later date, you stopped at the edge to dream, your hospital gown soft and the light fading in the window of your eyes, but to sleep is one thing, satisfied with the absence of hunger, your loved ones, family stretched around you, we the ones you left to a future that seems blurred by your absence, we return to the fact that you are not around to see us grow, get discharged, or serve us our medication, so it is a lasting memory, you in your white hair who reminded me of my mother, a sharp talisman refuses to turn into grief, though prayer will shape its tongue into a new thing, though Christ is the hidden silence of your eyes, there is the quick decision made comatose, a sleep and a journey, where in resting things finalize and become clear, I sent my heart out to greet you, but found the closing of a door, and to say goodbye again is only forthwith, the arrival of something new, that by choosing our way to worship the One God, we share the destruction of another, but in finding Him that blesses us, we find you again, living a voice far removed from pain, and the reflection of you in the living mask of Life moves through everything that is real and validated by the Christ of that turning place, where sleep is an address to darkness and darkness the dust of Light, shared with friends a memory never dies, and you remain with us forever, shaped in to the silent visage of your ghostly presence, remember with the living light of your emanated person, that shows that your kindness lives again, the in midst of the silent rainbow your hands have met. 6/12/93
Reprinted by kind permission of the Regents of the University of California,
Bancroft Library, Berkeley. Gift of Diane Walker Murray