Dead and Gone

Despite the ways that you may strive,
With photos or with stories,
To capture someone once alive,
Describing all her glories…

It can’t be done; it doesn’t work
For everyone’s uniqueness 
(That charming or annoying quirk,
That inner strength or weakness)

Is something we can’t translate
Or convey to make her real,
No matter what our mandate
Or emotions we might feel.

A person gone stays living
In our memories and hearts
But there’s no good way of giving
Strangers more than running starts.

We try to pass a little one – 
“Your grandma was like this…”
Yet once a person’s dead and gone,
There’s too much we would miss.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Murray Avatar
January 12, 2017 at 4:46 AM
"I love my Dad although he's dead. That matters not, he's in my head. The things he said." At least we can replay them there, as the were Ilene.
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