Direkt zum Hauptbereich

in the end - rewritten, september 2014

A poem is maybe never finished. For me, it is a constant process and if I'd wait for one to be finished, I'd never give one to the public. I love the idea of rewriting, and sharing different stages, with others and myself. So this is, what I've done with "in the end", after digesting everything, my writing group in Lisbon told me. It is still so far from finished. I can see that. But I like it much better. 

in the end - rewritten, september 2014

“In the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.” Buddha


it comes down
to a box of photos,
your favourite rings,
(i remember you wearing them
when I was little)
our old kitchen table,
where you and dad,
i imagine, had coffee,
now and then, before we were born.
                                                                                  (what i remember are the endless fights)

it comes down
to going through all
your drawers, cabinets,
wardrobes, closets, your
garage, your basement,
the second basement,
your cupboards – i never realized,
how much we collect –
(is this supposed to be my lesson in impermanence?)
deciding
what to keep
what to throw away.
(every piece we threw away hurt)
to give things away
to people who knew you
and were happy with your stuff
felt really good!
to hear my brother destroy
your cups and plates
with a hammer
                                                                                                                                                         ( what does gracefully mean anyway?)
so we could discard them
easier, felt really bad

it also comes down to this:
how much time, how much
strength do we have,
do we need
to deal with this?
(i think i would have needed
a full year, a complete cycle of mourning,
with your belongings still in place,
to sit with them,  which were you,
 find out, slowly, in my time, yes, gracefully,
what to do with every single cup,
yes, gently, but of course,
we did not have a year of strength.)

i found an old box with photos and papers
which dad had brought with him
sixty years ago. i had never seen them before.
he died twenty-seven
years ago, you kept it the way he had left it,
let it sit there with us,
without anybody knowing,
which made me understand,
what he had meant to you,
and that in the end,
we all become stories,
people tell each other,
while going through our boxes -
the ones we are packing now –
this made me smile.
(i am wearing your rings all the time, yes, love.)

© Susanne Becker



Kommentare

Beliebte Posts aus diesem Blog

100 bemerkenswerte Bücher - Die New York Times Liste 2013

Die Zeit der Buchlisten ist wieder angebrochen und ich bin wirklich froh darüber, weil, wenn ich die mittlerweile 45 Bücher gelesen habe, die sich um mein Bett herum und in meinem Flur stapeln, Hallo?, dann weiß ich echt nicht, was ich als nächstes lesen soll. Also ist es gut, sich zu informieren und vorzubereiten. Außerdem sind die Bücher nicht die gleichen Bücher, die ich im letzten Jahr hier  erwähnt hatte. Manche sind die gleichen, aber zehn davon habe ich gelesen, ich habe auch andere gelesen (da fällt mir ein, dass ich in den nächsten Tagen, wenn ich dazu komme, ja mal eine Liste der Bücher erstellen könnte, die ich 2013 gelesen habe, man kann ja mal angeben, das tun andere auch, manche richtig oft, ständig, so dass es unangenehm wird und wenn es bei mir irgendwann so ist, möchte ich nicht, dass Ihr es mir sagt, o.k.?),  und natürlich sind neue hinzugekommen. Ich habe Freunde, die mir Bücher unaufgefordert schicken, schenken oder leihen. Ich habe Freunde, die mir Bücher aufgeford

Und keiner spricht darüber von Patricia Lockwood

"There is still a real life to be lived, there are still real things to be done." No one is ever talking about this von Patricia Lockwood wird unter dem Namen:  Und keiner spricht darüber, übersetzt von Anne-Kristin Mittag , die auch die Übersetzerin von Ocean Vuong ist, am 8. März 2022 bei btb erscheinen. Gestern tauchte es in meiner Liste der Favoriten 2021 auf, aber ich möchte mehr darüber sagen. Denn es ist für mich das beste Buch, das ich im vergangenen Jahr gelesen habe und es ist mir nur durch Zufall in die Finger gefallen, als ich im Ebert und Weber Buchladen  meines Vertrauens nach Büchern suchte, die ich meiner Tochter schenken könnte. Das Cover sprach mich an. Die Buchhändlerin empfahl es. So simpel ist es manchmal. Dann natürlich dieser Satz, gleich auf der ersten Seite:  "Why did the portal feel so private, when you only entered it when you needed to be everywhere?" Dieser Widerspruch, dass die Leute sich nackig machen im Netz, das im Buch immer &q

Writing at the Fundacion Valparaiso in Mojacar, Spain

„…and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.“ Mary Oliver I am home from my first writing residency with other artists. In Herekeke , three years ago, I was alone with Miss Lilly and my endlessly talkative mind. There were also the mesa, the sunsets, the New Mexico sky, the silence and wonderful Peggy Chan, who came by once a day. She offers this perfect place for artists, and I will be forever grateful to her. The conversations we had, resonate until today within me. It was the most fantastic time, I was given there, and the more my time in Spain approached, I pondered second thoughts: Should I go? Could I have a time like in Herekeke somewhere else, with other people? It seemed unlikely. When I left the airport in Almeria with my rental car, I was stunned to find, that the andalusian landscape is so much like New Mexico. Even better, because, it has an ocean too. I drove to Mojacar and to the FundacionValparaiso