Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Whitewater Birch” by: rob kistner © 9/4/24
~ Can you ever go home again? This here’s a lil’truth, lil’fiction. ~
Last night I dreamed
I was wandering next to whitewater
in a stand of mountain birch
the white tree with paper-like bark
my father’s favorite tree
reminds him of Canada
his beloved country of birth
I vividly remember my dad
and his love of the birch
and his longing for Canada
a fondness he instilled in me
sharing his beautiful north country
via semiannual fishing adventures
to the small island log cabin
he still co-owned with a Canuk buddy
many memories still live and breath
in my heart
visions of younger days
one now calling me forward
down into the birch valley
and across the planes
of a childhood long ago
this morning’s sun
came crisp and bright
enfolding my waking
in warmth
and vivid presence
as the world awoke
fresh and fascinating
I embarked early
after eggs
juice
toast and jelly
the sweet and salty taste
lingering
of a homecoming
too long overdue
my soul is full
my mind is clear
my heart — overflowing
but my sprit is tentative
when dusk settles this evening
and early shadows fall soft
I will round Miller’s Corner
as it comes into view
worn
withered
but warm with recall
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Echoes of Laughter”
by: rob kistner © 9/4/24
my wooden framed
childhood home
abandoned now to ghosts
specters of a youth
spent surrounded by love
by laughter
by learning
and by loss
one of the ghosts
in that old house
is my mother
she passed within its walls
on a summer day
not unlike today
as I sat sobbing
in my room
down the hall
my father kept me from her room
he feared the sickness that took her
might take me
so I never really
got to say goodbye to her
nor goodbye to the laughter
that died that day
nor goodbye to the smile
on my father’s face
for it was never seen again
it disappeared
as did my father
into deep debilitating depression
shortly after mother passed
I was moved away
to live with my aunt
in Oregon
today I will return
to say a long delayed goodbye
to my mother
and to lay my father to rest
next to her
in the cemetery
behind the old church
where once they wed
quietly
I climbed the 2 steps
and entered the old church
empty at the moment
I sat down in a back pew
bowed my head
as if in prayer
and in a gentle hush
whispered
“I’ve come back — I’m here”
Original DDE™ surrealistic art entitled “Sacred Serenity”
by: rob kistner © 9/4/24
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rob kistner © 2024
More poetry at: dVerse
Very nicely done and full of great memories, Rob.
A bit long for a quadrille, don’t you think?
Thank you Dwight. It would have been much too long to be a quadrille, but it was not my quadrille. The quad was the one called “Love’s Kiss” which I posted Monday. “Echoes of Laughter” here was for the Tuesday prompt. 🙂
OOPs! Sorry! I just realized that this prompt allowed any form and any length of poem. I must be slipping! :>)
Hey dude, no worries — I slipped a long time ago my friend… 😉
A very moving piece, Rob and I always love your poetry of time spent in Canada. ???? ….even in your dreams.
Thank you Mish. I love the Pacific Northwest the way I love Canada. There is still true wilderness to be found — something that is a blessing humankind is slowly destroying. Of vourse, we will be wiped out before nature ever will, so as long as it is here to cherish — I do my friend… 🙂
Please ignore the question marks! Not sure what happened there.
No problem Mish. My blog platform is over two decades old. It doesn’t recognize emojis, so it defaults to punctuation marks. I am terrified to upgrade for fear of losing decades of work. 😐
You sure have a knack for combining visual and literary images into evocative stories. When I was a boy the laughter died in our home along with my mother. If this is an effort in fictional empathetic writing you have done it well. If it is part of your personal experience I empathise with you. We lived in a semi rural outer suburb. Not quite what you describe, but I still remember the bushland, farms, orchards with enormous fondness. However, they cannot be revisited because they no longer exist. Such losses we never quite recover from.
Thank you Sean, I appreciate your kind words. As I mentioned to Björn, the painful emotional core of this piece were drawn from my life, but fictional elements were employed to embellish. I do believe you can revisit the past, to whatever degree possible — but you can never truly go back. The waters of our past have flowed under the bridge of time — and are forever gone. What remains are the ripples of memory, and related emotion — happy, bittersweet, or sad.
This was a very sad story, but it sounds like a closure that maybe will let laughter back in.
Thank you Björn, it was a story of closure. Facts were the core outline, but embellished with fiction for impact. Appreciate your visits my friend… 🙂
Extremely touching, Rob. Beautifully written. ????
Thank you Lesley… 🙂
Oh Rob, what a very poignant poem. It hard to lose a parent so young, and you actually lost both. Beautiful and heartfelt poems.
Thank you Robbie… 🙂