is cuimhin liom

sehnen posted on May 23, 2008 | views: 151 | Tags: remembering them with flowers (link)x

Page Thirty             (copy)

friday 23 may 2008    greenfield

— Memorial day weekend, and my fourteen stolen friends don’t even have graves for me to go to. Or if they have them, I don’t know where they are or have anyone to take me there. I never had fourteen to mourn all at once before.

                                             Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh
                                             in allen Wipfeln spürest du
                                             kaum einen Hauch.
                                             Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
                                             Warte, nur balde, ruhest du auch. 

                                                        — j.w. von goethe

                                   Si un jour, la vie t’arrache à moi;
                                   Si tu meures quand tu sois loin de moi;
                                   Si tu meures c’n’est pas de problème,
                                   Car moi, je mourrai aussi.

                                                         — edith piaf

                                             Ma shiúlaim o na laethe beo,
                                             an ghrían is an ghealach ar mo chúl.
                                             Nil uaim ach smaointe
                                             ar mo (charai)…
                                             Deora ar mó chroí go brón, (go deo).

                                                      —  mostly eithne brainnan

                                             Sí an crann marbh,
                                             deireadh an tuath.

                                                        — eithne brainnan

Bígí liomsa i gconai, lá is oíche.  No, that can’t ever be again. The mentally deficient and judgmentally hyperactive, control-freak adolsecents at the DMH and CSS took care of that go deo.

Update 8 June 2009:  They can’t be with me ever again, the 14 I love so much, who were the whole center and meaning and purpose to my life. I have a great need to be told what happened to each of them, but no one’s talking. Existence is empty and dark without them. And I failed them, by zigging when I should have zagged in yet another highly pressurized situation — the one with the venomous landlady and the psycho-chick with the mommy married to the mob.

Last memorial day I wrote a poem and posted it on another blog. It begins, “On the last Memorial Day of my life…” And I hoped it would be. I hoped I wouldn’t live for a second memorial day without them. But I have. Why? I remembered them with flowers again this year.



read…   Lifelines…   Mugsy’s book

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