THE TINY BRIGHT BLUE BOX
— a poem of mourning
by Joy Blaylock
I am looking, searching…
Looking to the tattered papers left behind
the ones from that day
one day out of many
where sadness lives within me.
finding
crumpled papers from
the day my father
was laid to rest.
I remember early morning storm clouds
raged above us as we drove
it would be the last time
the final time
we stood beside his body.
Dad wasn’t a very tall man
nor broad shouldered
it was such a tiny box.
with faux bronzed handles.
— bright blue
bluebird egg colored
pressed
corrugated
card
board
box.
my father was laid in
quite a fancy
card.
board.
box.
it was his coffin.
The young pastor came
was asked to say a few words…
very few were there.
…to stand beside me
— beside me in my pain.
as it began to rain —
i stared.
thinking.
in the pouring rain…
Dad
— here to be noticed one last time
to honor his life
honor OUR family name
yet i must tell you…
this horrific disease
robbed so
so
so
so many memories…
from his brain.
from me and mine too.
this spiteful dreaded disease —
stole the joy
of remembrance.
he had no concrete stories
no lessons to depart —
only pain.
in those final days,
only pain in
those glassy
blue bird colored
eyes.
While the thunder rolled
my tears came.
I wasn’t sad for dad —
I was sad for me.
I found these rumpled papers today
distorted from that rain.
tucked away in a drawer now,
just like my pain
pain — not from his death.
the painful memories of his suffering
…i liken to this haunting disease.
there was nothing I could do…
no one to make it better
no one prayer to pray
ALL those years,
those long days —
at the end…
May they not be in vain —
Lord!
hear my cries…
someday, please cure
…cure the incurable
please God.
only those who’ve seen suffering know,
those who’ve been so close to death —
you hear
the rattle.
the shaking
the ticking of the second hand
on their clocks.
nothing can describe it
no eraser can —
destroy it.
the man I knew in that tiny box?
no longer suffers.
is no longer lost.
he knows his Jesus now!
heaven has claimed another soul.
not forever in that box!
Tell me your story, I’ll tell you mine! msb.joyblaylock@gmail.com
