The Scarf
The scarf that Nan wore
When she was dying –
Green, gold and sparkling,
Delicate tassels of silver,
Luminescent –
From whence did it come?
A thing she picked up
In the dementia home,
In her forgetting
(So we presume) –
Unless, on her deathbed,
It just manifested.
The only thing there is
To remember her with.
How can it be that she’s gone?
And yet,
If she were not,
It would make sense even less.
– Arwen, September 2017 (Cambridge)
Loss
They’re coming, coming,
One after another,
One follows the other,
Hastening, chastening –
The rain
Breaks up loss
Like candles at mass –
Hope in the dark;
When a bee is fallen
(The window never found)
It lies death still –
Like us as well.
– Arwen – July 1990 (Birmingham)
These poems are written by my friend Arwen. I feel honoured to share Arwen’s poems which I find so moving- these blazing insights are having their first blog outings.
Some words from the writer:
‘The scarf’ is written after my Nan died in late 2016. I then recalled that I’d also written a poem when my Granddad (her husband) died, way back in 1990. The poem ‘Loss’ is also recorded here, therefore, written on the day he died.’ – Arwen