Rainy Day Healing

INSIDE THE CHEST

BY POET IN RESIDENCE, TAMAR ZHGHENTI: OCTOBER 2024

 

 

 

INSIDE THE CHEST 

 

Fishtail braids and a lace collar, gazing sidelong —

Can’t recognize you, Mom!

Funny this picture should be at Dad’s,

and inside this wooden chest as well,

right alongside his for-funeral photo.

Pencil moustache, military cut and all,

yet he feels familiar unlike you,

even though I first saw Dad already bearded and old.

How snug, how odd! —

Like a brown pansy beneath a snowy oak,

Your petite sepia portrait

rests below his grand monochrome.

“Your dad is dead. To us both.

No matter when he goes to the grave, son.”

That’s all you ever gave me, Mom.

No facts, no clues.

And now, look at you! Locked side by side

In the earthy scent of aged cellulose.

Who arranged it this way, Mom?

Not his missus, for sure.

It’s your doing, Dad, I know.

“Didn’t trouble you in life, and I won’t in death,

This chest holds all I’ll need when I pass.” —

And here they are, your final needs, neatly grouped:

A flannel suit. Veteran medals. Brogue shoes.

The exclusive right of burial. A roll of banknotes.

Even the guest list for the funeral,

and the portrait, of course.

But what the hell is she doing here, Dad?

“When you leave, you leave for good,” —

is what you said.

So, why this sudden change of heart?

Or were you keeping her inside all these years?

And how am I to bury all this now?

Can’t be. Not Mom. Doesn’t look like. No.

 

OCTOBER 2024

 

 

 

 

Tamar Zhghenti: Facebook

Martina Nicolls RAINY DAY HEALING: Rainy Day Healing

Rainy Day Healing POET IN RESIDENCE: POET IN RESIDENCE

Rainy Day Healing POP UP POETRY: POP UP POETRY

Rainy Day Healing blogs – MAKING MY PEACE