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Five Years Gone
Poetry of mourning
what is five years but a plan we tell ourselves
some accomplishments by when
mastery of my guitar’s neck
one hundred and ten percent free of debt
you wrote this song upon my bones
the river was high and then
so low
my child turned — via covid-times — a teen
a thumbprint cast in silver and then
unboxed around my neck
now fifteen years since we were wed
you asked the rain to wash away
what will become of
what remains
writing poetry from my hotel bed
and now my love’s father’s life was spent
our home settles into winter’s dread
for five years I’ve felt frozen
the river was high and then so low
and eyeless sight watched
you go
on love — our contentment rests
five years is a non-standard measurement
you wrote this song upon my bones
now walk away and
let me go
2025
Author’s note: Today, February 19, 2025 marks five years since my father died. The italics in this poem are from a song I wrote about spreading his ashes. Now I support my husband in his loss. Being human is hard.
