Exhume
2.
Streambeds and seams parted today
As dirt knocked hollow on pine
Two shovels and sifted soil
Clay — no humous, no rocks, no roots –
Only the sterile crumble of rough umbra
Shiny-dull — eyes, cheeks, nose — red
We know what the road builders know
Water settles dust as it takes to the sky
* * *
“Exume 1.” is here. Still not playing by the rules. I can do very little three times in a row. Perhaps that is because doing something three times in a row is considered a habit. And I am stubbornly inconsistent.
Of course, “exhume” makes little sense out of context. Oh, bother! Grrr.
This poem is a response to a beautiful and heartbreaking memorial and funeral I went to a few weeks ago. I’m thinking to write a series of funeral poems, to mark the details of what I observe in funereal places. The ground, the sky, the birds, the sound of traffic, the shape of earth-moving equipment.
Thanks again to the madwomen (Carolee & Jill), who prompted this poem via their boot-camp idea a while ago at Read Write Poem. Okay. It wasn’t really boot camp!
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very nice folow up to #1 and i enjoyed this read
Thanks, Wayne.
I’m with you on not allowing habits to form.
You’ll find mine here.
:-)
It is truly amazing how a death can affect a person. Particularly when viewed in the light of brackets. I hope you have not finished you series. I am enjoying the read.
Donald Harbour
Thanks for the encouragement, Donald. I’ll stick with it …
I love the metaphor of dust settling. And that line: “only sterile crumble of rough umbra” — god that’s beautiful.
Oh, good, Nathan. Didn’t know if the dust idea would — cough — hold water. And I’m glad you liked that line, too.
Haunting piece. Well done.
It brought to mind an unfinished piece I started writing at my Brother-in-Law’s funeral. Yes, very haunting…
A lot to like here, both in the music (Nathan quoted my favorite phrase) and in the imagery. I’ll be interested to see how the series developes.
Thanks, Dave. And me, too. It’s an interesting and difficult subject. Personal and universal. The most difficult kind of thing to dig into. Or to create meaningful work from.
Sad yet it is uplifting somehow. Maybe we wish for everything normal.
static of the radio bustles at me
I’m glad you found the uplift, Gautami. Thanks for reading.
I get a sense of endings, of death, here. I read your first part and the two together make sense. I’d like to see the next installment.
-Nicole
Thanks for reading them both, Nicole! Glad they make sense. So far ;-)
beautiful. each word is perfect in its place.
I really like the dual images of the grave and the road and all that is implied.
finish the series… ;)
Thanks, Angie … and for the encouragement, too!
Deb – after reading this part 2, I had to read part 1. Very moving. This is a topic thread worth your continuing — very engaging. Somber and pensive, though not dark.
Excellent imagery, I was especially caught by:
“As dirt knocked hollow on pine
Two shovels and sifted soil”
I could hear the sad sobering sound, as though graveside – well written…
…rob
Your funeral observations are great. This poem is definitely earthy. You’ve taken the prompt and made it your own. Hope all is well.
Oh, thanks, Michelle.