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!
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2012
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