ENOUGH

Death be not proud,
but for crying out loud, can you stop?
Plucking two “roses” in one pop? Really?

The last generation is decimated
I am deflated and sad and have had
ENOUGH!

All in passing, we are now
that “last” generation.
No elation!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

For dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille #12: Rose

*** I received news yesterday afternoon that my Mother’s sole surviving sibling had passed away. She was the best aunt and we grew up with her always near. Thirty years after my mother’s death, and within two weeks of each other I lost two women who filled the role of “Mom” in my life. Two beautiful roses have joined the eternal garden, much to our chagrin!

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48 thoughts on “ENOUGH

  1. Oh I’m so sorry to here of your loss… not just the loss itself, but to realize we become a part of the elder generation… yes these things happens, you just wish you could have had the time to listen before it’s too late.

    1. They say one of the saddest moments in a life is when you become one of your our memories. Becoming that generation, I look at where I’ve been and marvel at how I’ve gotten to here! Thanks for your condolences, Bjorn.

  2. Wondering, at times, how we march on… sometimes it feels like ‘limp on.’ The attitude of your poem is an encouragment to us all. Thanks for trusting us with your grief, Walt.

  3. The mother figures are so difficult to live without. My mother was the most emotionally honest person I knew. They left a beautiful poet. I’m sure they’ve been the inspiration of much of your work,not just this one. It’s great that they were such wonderful roses in your life. Beautifully written.

    1. So true Victoria. My first chapbook was called WOOD and it was a tribute to my father, the master carpenter and the street on which we lived, Wood Street. They continue to influence me in ways I don’t even understand! But thank you for your support and kind words. I am grateful for both.

  4. I am so sorry to hear this Walt. I too am the last of my family line and to be honest, I really don’t mind. My husband has a ton of relatives but he will be the last of his father’s line. Coming face to face with our mortality can be hard. Writing of these two roses is a lovely thing and you kept it light but true – you’ve had enough.

    1. A bit melancholy of late until I can purge it from my psyche. But a writer writes, and carrying on is the only way I know. I am thankful for the encouragement and support as well as the kind words of condolence, Toni!

    1. It happens so quickly, Grace. And we do not realize it until we’re inundated by the gravity of those who pass before us. I thank you for your kind words as I work to leave some legacy in their wake.

  5. Perhaps “Like” isn’t the right response for most readers. I’m an odd bird (and you’ve noticed that). I worked in hospice for a couple years. The passing of loved ones… especially of that generation in my family is familiar territory. I am well acquainted with grief (Grief Coordinator — as if a person could help others “coordinate” their grief). No pat answers here. Your poem is a good start. Keep going. With time — lots of time — you (and I… and others) will make it through, Walt.

  6. Walt, I am so sorry to read of fresh sorrow. It’s a cruel, cruel blow. Rage is necessary and natural – I am minded of ‘Do not go gentle into that good night/Old age should burn and rave at close of day/Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Look after yourself.

  7. Your very brief quadrille says so much, Walt. I think the sorrows and joys of our lives inspire some of our best poetry. I liked the touch of humor, the voice…so important to the grieving process as I learned working hospice. I am so sorry for your losses. Write through them…it’s so healing.

  8. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    Condolences on your loss. Nevertheless I like the lack of awe and the colloquial tone of this expostulation.

  9. Its difficult to lose the people we love. We’ve not only lost them but also our role as child, grandchild, nephew, niece, etc.
    Sometimes leaves us wondering were we fit.

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