“Poetry is . . . emotion recollected in tranquility.”
― William Wordsworth
I found his obit on Google,
hadn’t seen him, barely thought
of him in forty years
since the day he loaded his car
with half of everything – blankets, pillows,
dishes, albums (we fought over
who’d get “The Graduate” poster of Hoffman
and Anne Bancroft’s leg) – and drove off
to I-didn’t-care-where.
Once, 20 years later I learned where he was
from his buddy John and called.
He still taught drama and directed
summer stock in a small midwestern town.
We laughed together, comfortable,
finally, in our separate skins.
Now an obit with pictures and two columns
in the paper. A well-loved, prominent citizen,
it read, wife, three kids, grandkids. He wrote
a children’s book and “left the town
with memories of comedy and drama
that enriched our lives.”
Our marriage wasn’t mentioned. No need,
I suppose – a youthful take off
and crash landing best forgotten. But I wish
I had a chance to say goodbye.
– Sarah Russell
First published by Silver Birch
Stunning, Sarah! I had to pause and take a breath after finishing. You’ve captured so much in this beautiful, perfectly-executed poem. Very graceful. May I reblog?
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Reblogged this on days of stone and commented:
This wonderful poem from my talented friend, Sarah Russell, stopped me in my tracks just now. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do. Please direct any likes or comments to Sarah on her site.
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Thank you so much, Ryan. High praise! And thank you for the reblog. Made my day!
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Wonderful poem, Sarah. I’d seen it before, but it’s worth visiting again and again. Alarie
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Thanks so much, Alarie. I forgot that it was published on Silver Birch! I’ll add that to the page.
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moved me.
cheers.
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Thanks a lot!
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A beautiful read Sarah, both a bit of whimsical nostalgia and forgotten sadness, and yes I had that “Graduate” poster hanging on my wall.
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I think a lot of us did, Ivor. Great movie. Funny, the stuff of arguments… Thanks for reading.
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A really poignant story, Sarah. And beautifully told.
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Thanks so much, Robert. I loved your recent “lobster” poem as well. Wonderful imagery.
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i love this poem. sarah. it evoked all kinds of feelings from my real life, where this happened in a very similar way, except that my ex died far away and alone.
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Oh, that’s much sadder, Beth. There’s a helplessness in that kind of knowledge that I was spared.
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At least
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I don’t know if your ex husband was your “first love” or not, but I do think a part of our hearts will always be with the one with whom we first learned about love and shared it. No matter where life takes us, even bringing us to our true soulmates, I don’t think it selfish or sentimental to want to say a peaceful goodbye to our firsts.
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My feelings exactly. If you loved someone enough to marry them, they are always in your heart, especially when the years have worn away the sharp edges.
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You’ve really captured the mixed emotions of relationships that once meant so much and seem to have been erased from our lives…but the traces always remain. Those ties are never completely broken. (K)
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Thanks so much. Yes, you know you wouldn’t go back, but you wouldn’t be the person you are now without the experience you had with them.
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Yes, that’s just right.
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Love how the very cursory, almost dismissive tone of the speaker really adds weight to those final lines. Excellent work, Sarah.
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Thanks a lot, Ryan!
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A moving and beautifully written piece, Sarah.
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Thank you, Khaya.
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This is so well-written! A poignant tale…..with echoes of more questions.
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Always more questions, Vivian. Thank you for stopping by.
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My pleasure 😊
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This is a story in so many layers.. the sorrow and sense of loss mingled with that absence… I can feel that probably some of that first emotions came back…
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They did come back, Bjorn, quite unexpectedly. Funny how that works, isn’t it.
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Breathlessly beautiful.
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Thanks very much, Carol.
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I like the story it tells. As if the characters are familiar. There’s a lot of pathos in this poem of vague regret.
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I like your phrase “vague regret.” Yes, that was exactly the feeling.
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That’s what comes over. Not a deep sadness, more a kind of wistfulness.
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Perhaps you speak of “regret?”
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Yes. Not regret that we parted, but that there wasn’t a sense of closure for someone I had loved. Thanks, Annell.
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What a story! History that though past cannot be forgotten. And the wish to say “goodbye”…I recently learned of the death of an old lover…it was wayyy past but I remembered and had that tinge of reqret.
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Yup. The important ones always stay with us, don’t they.
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I felt every bit of this. Excellent work. Thought is so powerful, isn’t it? When you focus on something, you feel it; when you don’t let it cross your mind, it just doesn’t consume you … until that sudden reminder of those moments, of that love (or hate [… or both]). Given the right/wrong stimuli, I could feel every bit of every relationship I was ever part of. It’s good to guard your mind/heart from that onslaught, when possible.
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Yes, exactly true. It’s what you dwell on that’s important, but some things seem to catch us and not let go.
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I liked the phrase “in our separate skins”, but the poem makes me wonder whether they were as separate as imagined.
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I think at that point they were separate skins. It took awhile to get there though…
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This feels like almost-regret. Really enjoyed reading, thanks 😊
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You’re welcome, Zoe. Thanks for coming by.
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It is so comforting and life affirming to hear that there was after all that had transpired a place still in your heart for him, or the memory of him. The human story writ large.
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It is absolutely writ large, Paul. It just sometimes takes years to understand that.
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Firstly, thank you for the enjoyable prompt, Sarah. It’s interesting to read the different responses. I also enjoyed your poem, which was like hearing the story from a friend, as if I know all the characters.. Is that regret in the final line?
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Thanks, Kim. High praise. Not regret at leaving the marriage, but certainly regret at not having a sense of closure. You never completely lose a connection like that even if many years have passed.
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This is truly elegant work.
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Thanks so much. High praise!
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It always hurts when someone passes and never get the chance to say goodbye to them; I have been there. This was such a heartfelt post; thank you
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I guess the lesson to learn is not to put off being in touch, not only with people we care for now, but people who helped shape our history too.
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I know that feeling. This is exquisitely written.
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Thanks so much, Misky!
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Relief, regret or happiness? Can be many things when you reconnect with a loved one in the past. Only good news and stories to share now, that is the most important things.
Also, Sarah, can you reply to the dVerse comments as well? Thanks for the prompt.
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Trying to get my feet under me this morning with all the dVerse stuff. My son and I talked until 3am, so I’m clunking around this morning…
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A longing for closure. After so many years, the obit reminds you of your own time together and the failed relationship. It has a feel of remorse from the tearing asunder, that can’t be healed anymore
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Thanks, Walter. Yes, remorse is a wonderful word for it. I wouldn’t go back, but not having closure is very poignant.
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😐
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A wonderfully sad piece of grief and regret! The reconnection in the middle was a nice touch of warmth in the sadness surrounding this piece!
Dwight
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Thanks, Dwight. Yes, that reconnection was important. He called me Sal — the only person to do that — and lapsed into the old nickname right away. Sweet, and now, of course, bittersweet, even though we couldn’t make the marriage work.
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How nice! It was good you had that closure to the past.
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So poignant. Someone who had been such a part of one’s life doesn’t go away. You did such a good job with the subtlety of the emotions in this, Sarah. One poem that affected me deeply years ago was titled “Dog of Divorce.” Like yours, so powerful. Don’t remember the author, except that he was from NV.
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Thanks a lot, Victoria. I have friends who share custody of their dog. I’ve always said that in divorce you argue even about who gets custody of the garbage (or in the poem, the poster from The Graduate). And yes, those important people stay forever.
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What a wonderful poem. It stopped me in my tracks. It is so sad when we suddenly realise that someone we loved has passed without our knowing. XXXXX Much love.
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Thank you! And I agree, Alison. It comes as somewhat of a jolt. Unfortunately that’s happening more and more as I age.
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Yes, a crash landing best forgotten. Well put.
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I had to smile when I saw the years “elide” in the obit between college and his marriage. Poignant.
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Beautifully poigant! A blend of whimsical nostalgia and forgotten sadness… sigh..
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Yes, both, Sanaa. Well put. Thanks!
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Marriage is a dream followed, and divorce the reality of where dreams too often go — wistful ends of both here, far enough away to be free of judgment or even despair. And the obit is a container of heart, as well as its coffin. Thanks for this and the challenge!
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Love your poetic response to my poem, Brendan. ‘…obit is a container of heart…”. Just beautiful. Thank you!
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Wonderful poem, Sarah. So much distance between the two (poster as date stamp) and the speaker’s implied indifference toward the ex. Then you reel it all back in. I also enjoyed you poem now up on RHP, which is how I found your blog.
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Thanks so much, Scot. And thanks for finding me. I’ll come on over to visit you too. “Learning to Play Baseball” is part of a manuscript I have out just now to a dozen presses. Cross your fingers for me. No word yet. Love Right Hand Pointing. Some wonderful poems in this issue.
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Nostalgia … not so much regret anymore… but a softening, a reconciliation.
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Yes. Time does even things out. Thanks, Margaret.
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Boy…this fits like a glove with the Wordsworth quote. Feels like coming full circle. I can relate.
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Thanks so much, Pat. I think a lot of us “mellow” as we get a little age and maturity under our belts.
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Regret….
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Yes, Judy, in a nostalgia sort of way.
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I’m so pleased you enjoyed this. Thank you.
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