I lost my beloved father two years ago today. It is these anniversaries that are the most difficult– they catch you by the throat and force you to take notice. Two years have come and gone. Time has softened the edges of my grief, but the sorrow is always there, just beneath the surface. Perhaps my poem is a little sad today, reflecting the wistfulness I am feeling. I can’t quite tell.
C’est la Vie
For three days now, a little songbird—
perhaps a wren—has been banging his head
against my window. Something elusive
is drawing him to it, either a misguided
sense of direction, or an intense desire
to want what he can’t have. My heart
goes out to him, this little bird, yet
I’m powerless to intervene. The way
I see it, either he will eventually
knock himself senseless, or finally
realize the futility of his efforts,
and redirect his flight pattern.
Such is life.
I wrote the blog post In Memoriam to dad, last year on this date.