Remembrance of Harriet Harris:

VERSE ONE: Christened as averred one Harriet Kuritsky on November 13th nineteen thirty five the youngest of four with only one brother whose exit from this world from a terminal illness she did not survive! The following emotions communicating heartfelt grief practically vanquished as like my existence turned a new leaf! A recurring abysmal grief stricken state still consumes my entire being of late these perpetual tears of sadness seem not to a-bate since the grim reaper brandished scythe signature sign of a deadlocked fate! Twas about 11:00 a.m. 2005 that third of May that our dearly beloved mother fought tooth and nail to keep death at bay (recounted by sisters who elected to remain on vigil that day) nonetheless rigor mortis upper hand brought a (supposed) painless and swift death to her diseased and emaciated riddled body gone lifeless and ashen gray! This only heir still misses his mom more than plaintive words can spell with his agonizingly pained heart and soul that rents asunder this psyche pell-mell no amount of weeping can quiet and quell! Cathartic for me to give you a posthumous ode conveyed in an easy to read poetic code to accept finality & permanent loss only retrievable from nostalgic memories identified as that childhood home and favorite abode! VERSE TWO: Her cremated ashes still remain sealed in the same nondescript box white, powdery and chalk like material devoid of any vestigial semblance to her once living and vibrant self that unique persona pulverized and vaporized (housed former svelte and tall Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher a half century plus prior to demise which beauty, charm and grace quickly caught the attention of my father who courted and eventually proposed to this young flirt and tease of a gal) inert organic matter now represents sole residual embodiment reduced to dust and near nothingness former corporeal being of blood, bone and flesh weighing no more than a dozen hatch marks on the scale absence still bears down heavy like some millstone round the neck per the black hole void created by defeat with Grim Reaper toward this woman who helped birth and nurse me into manhood momma’s only grown son still feels ripples of grievous sadness no matter the years of suppressed anger and rage in addition to emotional conflicts between us which invariably wrought unpleasant relationship and a legacy of discord writ large across the tapestry of my life!