Meaning

All posts tagged Meaning

DEROS

Published December 14, 2012 by rlmcdermott

He came
air evac’d
from Camp
Red Cloud;
a thirty mile
flight seizing
all the way.

They stopped
the seizures
but could not
stop the blood–
we worked
sixteen-hour
shifts for a week

His mother came
three days before
he died. She
held his hand
and asked him
if he couldn’t stay
a few more days.

He died on my day off
when the dragon flies
low to the ground
and the ginkgo is full of fruit.

The Fortune

Published October 22, 2012 by rlmcdermott

I am not afraid!

I have lived with death
so long that it’s a friend,
a flower growing in a garden
yet to be discovered–
a song unwritten.

This was meant to be,
you and I,
this never meeting,
this always being met.

I’ll stand beside you,
I’ll walk the walk
until the road grows steep
and flowers bend their heads.

I’ll be the love that lets you go,
the love that never leaves;
I’ll live a thousand lifetimes
and die a thousand deaths
until I find you in the paper trees,
the silver moon, the polished stone.

I’ll be all autumn and all spring,
the seasons of my love will never cease,
and I will bring you home again
where home has never been.

The Spindle

Published October 4, 2012 by rlmcdermott

I think of women
sitting at their looms
and sunny afternoons
spent reading fairy tales

I think of red-haired boys
in cowboy hats and sailor suits
running home from school

this poem’s for me it’s not for you

I say goodbye not
because you weren’t
there but because
you didn’t try

you lied and that’s the truth

these are the things of my life
an empty loom
a red-haired boy
a memory of you

goodbye to love
it wasn’t real
I made it up
to help me feel alive

now spindle cells have stopped me dead

and I cannot pretend
that what I hold is thread

Autumn

Published September 11, 2012 by rlmcdermott

Everything
happens
in the fall;
all loss
is in a leaf–
yellow and gold
to the ground.

Even
tall buildings
must fall;
three thousand
hearts and you
in one hour–
autumn.

Two things
juxtaposed,
whose pain
is greater
the leaf’s
or mine;

Falling,
falling,
falling
into the
bright
September
sun–
everything
happens in
the fall.

The Wounding

Published August 31, 2012 by rlmcdermott

waiting for something
that’s finally come
there’s an art to that
that wanting
the hard wood of it
no sound except
my own breathing

not sure if the
sound of it is mine
cell rubbing against cell
transfer paper against stone
names dates relationships
the artifacts of a life
my life dreaming itself

It’s all about death

Hieroglyphics on my skin
numbers letters signs
signs and wonders
all against my skin
burning into my flesh
words everywhere
none making sense
lost love
lost life
what mattered most was the dream

did I dream it all
family friends art life
was it worth standing still

is this what Eurydice knew
when she hoped he would turn around
not to go back
not to have to live again
the constant feeling of failure
the waiting
the questions
is it here
is it today
will it be tomorrow
how long
how much longer

and then it’s here
and you’re not afraid
just sad
waiting does that to you
and then the god touches
you on your shoulder
and says he has turned around