For What It’s Worth

When a musician dies,

I read their obit,

buy one of their records,

and study their story.

I want to honor their life

and their work,

their life's work

and their life's worth.

In the Company of Angels

I keep the photo in a box,

the box that my grandmother

gave me one Christmas,

the box that holds a single

glass angel ornament with golden trim.

I tuck the picture

underneath the angel

for safe keeping.

The photograph captures

the Christmas that you

spent with us 18 years ago

in Nashville.

This is the first Christmas

that Grand is no longer with us,

and the first Christmas 

that the two of you,

complete strangers,

will somehow keep each other

company.

Dealing With Death

My maternal grandfather, Lindell Lee Jarrett, passed away a week ago today.  Since then, my mind has be occupied with memories, reconnections and recollections with relatives, the big questions of life and death, and (mentally) climbing the family tree -- up and down and back again.  It's amazing how full one's brain can be and -- at the same time -- how empty one's mouth can be.  Sometimes some things silence even those of us with the "gift of gab."

Some Things

Some things
silence the
professional speaker.
Some things
stump the
international intellectual.
Some things
paralyze the
confident wordsmith.
Some things...

(After the funeral)

After the funeral
I searched my inbox
for any messages I still had from her.

(Live well and love well.)

Live well and love well.
For today is all we have,
so far as we can tell.

Perspective

For Marcy

She was on the e-mail list
that I administer each month.
I took her off the list
two months ago without
instruction to do so.
I had been frustrated that
she never responded to
my carefully constructed,
time-consuming messages
and occasional updates.
I wondered why, month
after month, she didn't
reply or at least accept
my offer to remove her
from the distribution list,
until I received notification
this morning that she just
passed away after a
three-year battle
with cervical cancer.

© Amy E. Hall 2008

Thanksgiving Traffic

Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall