The Fabric of Life


The Fabric of Life  
 
I have never known loneliness
Ah but aloneness
The red silk dress
I slip over my naked body
Allowing its softness to billow
Until it finds the folds
That settle me into serenity
 
There is a freedom like no other
In the simplicity of solitude
I never wear underwear when I’m alone
It’s a symbol
A letting go of societal norms
On occasion this symbol
Sneaks out to the shops
 
When the freedom of aloneness
Meets the don’t give a damn of age
Many wondrous things happen
 
Recapturing childhood joy
Talking to teddy bears
Looking deeply into their eyes
Until I see the subtle change of expression
In their beautiful teddy bear faces
Kissing my special bear as I settle into sleep
Feeling him in my arms when morning comes
 
Reliving the teenage years
Only now
I can listen to whatever music I want
At whatever volume I want
Belting it out on the back of the bike in Bat out of Hell
Harmonising under the Lemon Tree with Peter Paul and Mary
Swaying to the mystery of Chopin’s Polonaise in A-flat 
 
Some days I eat my breakfast in the middle of the day
My dinner at midnight
Time is – for now – mine
 
There are days I do the tough stuff
I grieve the loss of my only child
My headstrong heartsore loving loveable boy
I live again the final gentle pressure
Of my precious husbands hand in mine
The moment death suddenly stealthily
Crept out of the night to claim him
 
I can listen to the CD of my son’s funeral
Watch the DVD of my husband’s
Enjoy the music they loved
Savour the words of friends and family
Without anyone rolling their eyes
Or chucking me a cliché
My grief is mine to live
 
I talk to their photos
Tell them of my sorrow and joy
And I remember – oh how I remember
 
Aloneness nurtures me
Reclining in my faded pink velvet chair
My ailing body and ageing mind regenerate
Music and literature nourish my sensitive psyche
Reflection brings acceptance
Of physical limitations
And questions without answer
 
My life is full and rich
I have family and friends who love and care for me
My heart is full of gratitude
For so many things
But mostly for the giving and receiving
Of love
The gift beyond measure
 
Occasionally I venture out into the world
But for me nothing compares
To the red silk dress of solitude
 
Tricia 11/11
 

About triciabertram

I have written all my life. Writing helps me to make sense of a world I often don’t understand. Poetry is my supreme solace, closely followed by literature and music. When my son ended his life in 1999 I embarked on the most difficult journey of my life, my grief journey. To survive in this unknown, harsh landscape I had to write. It was for me, the only way I could even begin to move forward. Then in 2009 my darling husband died suddenly and so my journey continues. I write about other issues but because of my life experience, grief and death are continuing themes in my writing life. In our culture I believe there is a fear of death, an inability to accept the inevitability of our mortality, and this creates enormous difficulties for the bereaved and those around them. I have begun this blog in the hope I will create a small ripple in the pond of fear that is currently drowning the reality of death and grief. I will continue to skim the stones of my truth, watch them bounce, and see how many ripples I can make.

Posted on December 30, 2011, in Poems and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Love this, Tricia. No one can see the red silk dress I’m wearing, because mine is in the metaphorical realm. I’m sometimes called unsociable, but I just smile. Those who consider me so appear to be upset because I have no interest in talking bollocks for sociability’s sake 😉

    ps. Nit-picker says there should be an apostrophe in “DVD of my husbands” (unless there’s something you’re not telling us!)

    pps. I hope my humour does not offend!

    • Jo my red silk dress is also metaphorical, and please nit-pick constantly. My husband was my editor and I have a habit of seeing things as they are in my mind, rather than how they appear on the page. Not sure where to put the little fellow, does it come before or after the s? I would think before, but often get confused with these little chaps.

      You can always “speak” freely here, I’m rather hard to offend, and believe humour is invaluable.

      • You are not alone in reading what you think you wrote rather than what’s actually there. I experienced the exact same thing with my book. I must have read some of the sentences with errors in (missing words, for example) dozens of times without seeing the errors, because I read what it was supposed to ‘say’.

        I think that little fellah should go between the d and the s 🙂

  2. I haven’t been able to watch the funeral but I understand the need of solitude. Very well written as it touches a part of my grief I keep hidden.

  3. This is a wonderful poem which resonated with me at all sorts of levels.

    It made me smile, it made me laugh and it made me glad to know there are kindred spirits in this world.

    As for –
    “When the freedom of aloneness
    Meets the don’t give a damn of age”

    Terrific – you and me both!!!

    David

  4. Your poetry sings the planes of the human heart and spirit, touching all of us with a fire of words that is not a fire but a gentleness and a give-a-damness that elevates into a whirlwind of emotion and thought. If poetry moves you than it is poetry. As A.E. Housman once said, if a poem makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, then the poem is a good poem. You have reached deeply with this, and in reaching, you have discovered the human spirit’s rainbow.

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