SOMETHING IN ME LIKE TRAINS LEAVING

A very special friend from of mine who lives at the bottom of the world (but sends me messages from her own bright skies) forwarded me this strange and beautiful grief poem by Jean Valentine. It came just in time! Thank you, Deborah, and with endless love, Susie x

After: Isn’t there something

Isn’t there something in me

like the dogs I’ve heard at home

who bark all night from hunger? Something

in me like trains leaving,

isn’t there something in me

like a gun? I wanted to be

loud squirrels, around the trees’ feet,

bees, coming back & back

to the wooden porch,

wanting something—and wooden planks,

wanting something. To go back into

a tree?

                       I want to go back to you,

who when you were dying said

“There are one or two people you don’t want to

let go of.” Here too, where I don’t let go of you.

 

Jean Valentine