Well I remember
the times we walked
our favorite old growth
canopied high above
most especially
I will never forget
that perfect june morning
we trekked deep
into that ancient wood
to our favorite spot
— our secret clearing
the morning sun
filtered softly
through the canopy
drifting down golden
into our sacred space
setting your handsome face
aglow with an angel’s radiance
a breeze rustled the treetops
whispering of eternity
casting a magic spell
awed by the splendor
we talked long and quietly
leaning on the downed Douglas
that slumbers there in repose
perhaps for centuries
peaceful in its earthen bed
you were eighteen
off to college soon
so very excited
as certainly was I
I was so in awe of you
my brilliant beautiful son
in that instant
time suspended
life aligned
for a perfect moment
for a perfect memory
my very last of you
three weeks later
you were tragically killed
this precious memory
lingers here at peace
under this forest canopy
in our clearing
where my heart still journeys
to talk with you.
you left in your summer years
I will leave in my winter
our clearing awaits patiently
quiet – save the echoed laughter
of a father and son
in love with the forest
in love with life
in love with each other
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry Inspired by Ecological Change: Earthweal
A love poem to your son. I feel honoured and awed to share that memory with you. Strangely (being a poet) I have found it hard to find the words to write a comment here. I have read and reread your poem several times, and feel your love and loss deeply.
Aaron was my first born son. He shared my love for sports, my prankster sense. I, and his older brother and younger brother – snd certainly his mother… we misd him so.
This is truly exquisite and the memory heartfelt. A perfect last adventure. Sigh.. wiping a tear. I am touched by the depth of a relationship between father and son. I am sure you will meet again in a new season beyond this earthly realm. Thank you for sharing.
I hope you are right True, but I am not able to genuinely embrace that possibility — I feel I can only go there in my heart and mind. Such revisits are extremely emotional at times.
A sacred meeting place for remembering.
That my health no longer allows me to get near physically Kerfe, so I go emotionally.
Rob, am I right that you have written about this clearing before? I remember reading about you walking with your son. It must be so hard to write about, and yet your words are so painfully beautiful.
Yes Ingrid, it is one of my favorite places on earth, and I haven’t been able to get there for a number of years now. As my health issues spiral and compound so does my depression, and in recent months my emotions are on a roller coaster. In the prompt it mentioned spend some thought in my heart with the trees, and with my grief. This is what emerged for me.
Oh Rob, this is heartbreaking and lovely to read, at the same time. The hardest thing a parent can ever go through. The sun on his face, his death three weeks later – that radiant time never to grow dim. I am so sorry. I really dont know how parents stay standing, when there are so many dangers in the world our kids are walking through. My son, now age 50, the one who was stricken with schizophrenia at 17, just had a stroke that paralyzed half of his body. His entire journey gives me a small concept of the journey you have made. My heart goes out to you.
Sherry, my love and my heart is with you as well. Our children are such beautiful fragile gifts that bless our lives. But they are fragile, as we all are. They are also gifts that we share in a special way, with the world. All we can do is our best to prepare them for that world, and love them as we do. We would like to think we can protect them, but ultimately, we cannot. Again, we can just guide them to the door, snd love them as they walk through, and away. Peace and health my friend… 🙂
Such a moment held so vast in that forest sanctuary. I’ve lost a brother, two nephews, a cousin and a cousin’s son to the roaring. Grief can be held in bittersweet magnitude deep in those places. A canopy so sad, so beautiful. Hold it there.
It was a moment and a place I met Aaron as a man, an individual with his own mind thoughts well considered. We shared this beautiful place as two wholly separate entities, finally after 18 years — and in three weeks he was gone. Profound! Devastating! I lost him, and I lost myself. The first time I went back to our clearing later after his death — he was there, his presence — not a ghost, but a brilliant clear, detailed memory. I returned frequently, as I was able — and now physically I can no longer make the trek. I miss him to my bones, I miss my memories of him in that place, That clearing is the only place I can still conjure him.
trees and their clearings hold wisdom we rarely get to share.
I am glad you and your son did, and that it has sustained you throughout the dull and the red and the black, since.
Precious strong sustaining memories! Yes… 🙂
Hold fast to those memories. May they fill the space that holds a place that is no longer attainable.
I do Ken, ever I do!