Where does the good go

Poetry Wednesday

Clareified’s persons of the year, Vero and Notorious L.I.G., came into town last week. We went out for “Mexican” (the restaurant had a matzo menu posted on the front door for Passover…so, I remain skeptical.) Afterward, we went to see the play “Ann” at Lincoln Center.

It was a terrific tribute to Ann Richards, the one-time Governor of Texas. I’ve long blamed her for Al Gore’s loss, but the play was funny, witty and touching, so all is forgiven.

I say so a lot. So?

Anyway, the play ends with a poem she told her secretary to save for “a funeral someday. I had no idea it would be my *own*” she says in her signature Texas drawl.

The lines:

Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

stayed with me. Hours, days, weeks… they vibrated through my head. That, we still are.

Yesterday would have been Vella’s 38th birthday and, for the first time this year, I went to visit his grave.

I find it easily now. Someone before me had planted some flowers at the edge of his stone, but otherwise, the site remains unchanged.

Our 20th high school reunion is in a few weeks and I can’t help but imagine that we would be talking by now. Every day facebook alerts me of my classmates’ giddy plans. Happy Hour! Picture taking! Tours! After party!


It’s cold. I stuff my hands in my pockets.

Drinks with the popular kids… that couldn’t be further away from my high school experience if they’d sent out an update changing the venue to the moon.

I would go if it were on the moon though. Seeing the moon would be cool.

Happy Birthday…sorta.

I concede. I’m older than you now. You found a loophole. Bastard.

Whatever we were to each other…

I’m surprised how empty the cemetary is. I passed a car driving in, but other than that, I haven’t seen anyone else.

I am alone.

…That, we still are.

I can’t think of anything else to say. So, I say goodbye.

Death is Nothing at All
Henry Scott Holland
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.

One Response to “Poetry Wednesday”

  1. VinNay Says:


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