Poem by Todd Swift on the occasion of the burial of his grandmother's urn

IN MEMORIAM : MELITA HUME

Melita, where to place you in your life?

Your own, of course, which ends

And starts, as all do, in its course –

Seen the way a river is, at bends,

At curves, the banks disclosed

Or covered by green shade of trees.

This coming close to any life, though

Is not yet yours, quite: the metaphor`s

Too general to do more than send

A mind pond-skittering away, a stone –

We know you more deeply than this –

The onlyness of each one`s store

Of actions, styles, ideas, graces:

In gardens, with books, at races.

The smart teaching girl, good wife –

Mother, grandmother – kind if stern

Afraid of fire as she had learned fire –

Cautious, concerned, intelligent, careful

To preserve – and gestures – how she

Brought breadcrumbs slowly off

The tablecloth with her palm as she talked.

How she walked in the woods! A beautiful

Woman, finally, whose many turns

Arrived at no other shape than this one.

Comments

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