By Dorothy Atkins
Santa Clara County Branch
Year after year during the months of August and September when the
leaves begin to turn, and that cool breeze can be felt in the air, the
malady begins.
My heart feels so saturated with longing and out of sorts.
Then suddenly, without explanation, it becomes clear
Mother gone in August, dad gone in September many years ago.
Time has caressed the pain and placed it in that private place, yet
the malady has a way of creeping in and catches me off guard.
The moment I speak gently to my soul, it begins to slowly disappear.
No regrets nor sadness, just an unexplained feeling that holds me
captive year after year.
August and September.
Touching poem…worthy!
Your poem reminds us that the heart does not forget. It’s sad but fitting to remember loved ones during the season that we lost them; it pays tribute to them, and in a way to us. I especially like the phrase “saturated with longing.”
The poet remembers her season of loss, reminding us we have friends who may need our quiet, loving presence during this season of family celebrations.
Claire Massey
Poetry Editor
NLAPW
Thank you Claire for suggesting this blog to me. I read a lot of poetry and one of the pleasures is insight into the creativity of other minds. Audrey Mchugh
Thank you for sharing your feelings in such a poignant way. We sometimes have feelings we don’t quite understand. You’ve expressed it very well in “Out of Sorts.”
Lovely poem. Describes beautifully what unaware people may feel but not recognize.
This is beautiful, Dorothy! It made me think of my parents’ passing too 🙁
Memories are one of the greatest gifts that we have. However, some are good and others a bit sad. The good part of a sad memory of our loved ones who have passed is a big loss but the same time shared while they are with us is very dear and happy. Happy Holidays. I just lost my husband almost three years ago and have the same dilemma.
Thank you for your comments. So true about the heart. I am sorry for your loss. Hang tight to those sweet memories.
Regards,
Dorothy