Unsent Letters
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Written on September 9, 2024
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Those who’ve gone on before me… what I would have liked to have told them – in those unsent letters, those unwritten stories, those unbroken promises, those unsteady poems, those unbleached memoirs – before the grief felt like I’d been struck by a train going way beyond its tracks, way beyond its route, way beyond its path to the past, where those unsent letters keep looking back, back, back… quote by poet
I knew death before I was in my teens,
When I was closer to six than ten,
When I loved innocently and trustingly,
Without an inkling of doubt that those I loved
Would be with me, always,
Always kissing away my pains,
Always listening to my songs,
Always watching when I danced,
Always hearing my prayers when I spoke
To God at night, “now I lay me down to sleep…”
Forever reminding my heart to believe.
I knew death first when my great-grandfather died,
But knowing him for such a short time,
Knowing him as my friend, my ally when
Someone told me I could not, or I should not,
Knowing him as the bit of joy who touched
My heart with kindness, when he offered me sweets,
Ice cream treats, and so many words of assurance,
So many smiles that arrived just when I needed a boost.
Knowing him was easier than the smile that reflected
The reasons I can still see him in my mind,
Despite that he’s been gone now for over fifty years.
I knew death, a while later, when my great-grandmother died,
The one who had held my hand in her garden,
Whispered sweet words of joy that unfolded in laughter,
The one who melted into my past like a song,
Melody of grace, touching my spirit in so many ways,
Reassuring, comforting, glowing like the stars in heaven,
And I could see her – an angel in the clouds,
Pouring out glittering dreams, and glistening seas of joy,
Growing from the seeds that brought roses and trees,
Coloring my heart in a breathless moment,
As the winds remembered her and prayers told God,
How I miss the lady, her gray bun and wrinkled skin,
Her musical voice so like the rain, her twinkling eyes
Who could see my feelings so completely,
Like she just knew, she always knew what was true in me.
I knew death, when my aunt went to be with her Granny,
And, the tears I wept – tears drowning out the words
The preacher said, the preacher prayed, the preacher cared,
But she was gone and I couldn’t tell her how I loved her,
Like the quilts she stitched, the crafts, the kindness
All the things that made her light feel like it was glowing
Even when she was beyond knowing, beyond pouring
Out the music that comes to those who bring joy,
Out of the song who trembles in the distance,
Playing with the stars, with the leaves of autumn,
With the heart who knows – she is, will forever be, a part of me.
I knew death, when my uncle left behind pieces of prayers,
I’d prayed so many times… for his life, but was met with his death
And I kept praying and praying for the comforting hand of God,
To ease the pain that tore through my soul when he left this world,
Pain that was like a knife, splitting my heart into two pieces,
Erasing the wings of grace, pouring out traces of lonely,
Seeking to fill my thoughts with despair, to darken my moments
With anguish, because he was the one person that knew me
Like I was and still, he loved me without expectation or motive.
He was someone that couldn’t be blamed, yet I still blamed him
For leaving, for dying, for letting me live without his presence,
His light still felt like the sparks of a hope pouring through me,
When I couldn’t hear the music, when I couldn’t see the beauty.
He is like a tear that can’t be felt as it quietly melts the silence,
Breaking through the moments with dewy eyed sighs.
I knew death, before and after I was grown up
And sometimes I still ask myself, can I be grown up?
Because I still yearn for second chances
To tell all those who’ve gone on before me
How I love them, how I long to hear their voice,
How I need to just hold their hand,
Listen and understand… but they’re gone,
And all those unsent letters lay in empty shadows,
Like a distant echo, resounding all the reasons I cry
For the ones that I hope to see again – when I finally die.
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2024
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