Monday, October 26, 2009

In Pace

In Pace
By Dorothy Foster

Respectfully, as they lower
her husband into his grave
I take off my hat/my apron
to that woman
who at eighty-four
can toss her heavy
shopping/washing basket away
and quietly breaststroking through
tears of relatives
without guilt admit to joy
- being able at last
to please herself.

3 comments:

  1. Thanks for stopping by.
    Wise words in that poem, pity she had to wait so long.

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  2. It's a rather sad statement of the way many people have to go through life or feel about life. My wife and I had our own lives and a shared life - that part of our marriage worked rather well. But having arrived In Paceso to speak I'm not sure that I could ever return.

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  3. Love that poem Pauline, I bet she kicked her heals up for her remaining days. A bit sad in that respect.

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