Monday Poem

“It was only when my father died in 2016 that this deep truth of human existence
hit me: there are two basic categories of people, the living and the dead, and the
members of both categories are 
equally people. Some people are dead people,
in other words.” —
Justin Smith-Ruiu, from 3 Quarks Daily

Knot

There are days I speak to Mom or Dad, who are
no longer here so to speak, but I hear no reply
unless I count a coincidental breeze
riffing through the leafy larynx of a tree,
or a hawk or crow who, perfectly timed,
swings into a downdraft to close the space between,
calling to an offspring still learning
—but I am not a hawk or crow and am
ignorant of their language

The thing is the opacity of this enigma: the Celtic knot
of their once having been, a tangle as incomprehensible
as their not having been once before:
….. before they ever were,
….. before they ever breathed
….. then both suddenly did

But (and so), I engage them hoping (but little) that they’ll
come to me in a dream or sudden fabulous thought, and they do,
each seizing an end of that impossible knot, snapping it into
a single line but longer than anything that can be reduced to words

Jim Culleny 11/11/23