Lizards in the Leaves

Rustlings in the green....imagination, art, whimsy

Aug 9, 2006

Poem - At the Supermarket for the Bereaved

At the Supermarket for the Bereaved

there is an open box of Kleenex
at the end of every aisle.

No one questions why you weep inconsolably
before the Cinnamon Toast Crunch,

why you stand still and silent,
staring at the little Jell-O cups,
remembering.

At the Supermarket for the Bereaved

there are blank journals
attached to each cart.

On the pages, black and blue
with ink and tears,
you can write
“he loved salted butter”
or
“I made him Ovaltine shakes when his jaw was broken”
or
“i miss i miss i miss him
with all my heart”

just underneath where someone else wrote
“I always brought her Oreos for a treat”
and
“Every normal act is not normal
anymore.”

In the Supermarket for the Bereaved

there are angels at the check-out.

They add everything up,
golden light
radiating from their brows,
promising some kind of grace
somewhere.

‘Fear Not,’ they murmur.

They handle your food
as if it is sacred.

When they give you change,
their cool fingers
brush your palm,

and for a blessed instant
hold your grief as their own.

At the exit, there are candles to light
and places to leave things:
a can of mini-raviolis,
a strawberry,
blue corn
chips.

5 Comments:

At 8/11/06, 12:31 PM, Anonymous Jo said...

Thank you for sharing such a beautiful piece. It honestly brought tears to my eyes.

Words can not express my sympathy to you and your family. You are in my thoughts.

PS- I'm a friend of Meg's from NM just so you don't think I'm some creepy person. :)

 
At 8/12/06, 2:34 PM, Anonymous Carol said...

Oh, baby. I'm so sorry.

 
At 8/15/06, 1:53 PM, Anonymous Margot said...

Wonderful poem. I keep thinking about it. Take care. That's what we do, take care, and it's hard to let go of that.

 
At 8/15/06, 8:38 PM, Blogger Lexi said...

Hi Zann,

What beautiful words. You are still in my thoughts,

Alexis

 
At 10/9/06, 1:42 PM, Anonymous carol said...

Hello,
This is a beautiful poem. I'm very moved - and I'm critical about "emotional" poems. I love the details, the line "miss him, miss him, miss him.(very powerful) and the ending - snaps shut like a box, like one of my English teachers taught me.
you should submit this somewhere.
You sound like such a brave and honest woman. Best to you as you muddle through this happening.
Grief is a very LONG, elastic, ever changing process. Lost my mom 15 years ago. Still feel the pain and emptiness.
Btw, LOVE your scribble shawl, reason I found your blog ;-) Plan to make something similar - getting ideas!
best,
carol

 

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