Somewhere in the distance

Somewhere in the distance

a dove coos,

crying out loneliness

felt since my grandmother died,

not a cruel, wretched death, but

simply a fading away from

grief and her newfound solitude.

How does one bring back

the hilly path that led to

Grandma’s house,

the homemade fudge with added

walnuts, gathered from the forest and

broken on the old marble stone,

the sense of belonging

the front porch brought

as the chains on the old wooden swings creaked

rocking back and forth and back and forth

on summer days gone by

as the doves cooed from the distant wood.

How do we take all we’ve known

and put it in a simple poem

on a single page

that will make a difference

and bring life to others?

How do we share experiences

with metaphors and similes

and strong, vivid verbs

calling others to feel with us

at the simple call of a dove?

How can you see my grandma’s thin,

wavy hair blowing in the wind as she

stood by the creek

running over the gravel road

and stared into the distance

remembering her own children

and their walks in the wood

and the doves cooing in the distance?

They sound sad.

They sound lonely.

But can the birds of the air

really feel sadness and loneliness as

we do

when those who held us close

slowly fade away

and leave us

with nothing but memories

that jump to life once again

with the single cry of a bird.

© Donna Arthur Downs