I toyed with calling this piece Location, location and writing about the compass rose. But that's for some later text. The hymn is Gammal Fäbopsalm by Oskar Lindberg, you can listen to it here https://youtu.be/p_idCdX9wpk


letting go

putting on rubber boots and a sturdy coat
it's time to pack the backpack
or unpack it, I don't know what to call it
it doesn't matter
not really
the birches and alders sing from the organ loft
I know the choral, grew up with it
sun slanting across the field
wild geese doing preflight checks along the river
the men cart things to their truck
so many memories heading out
on their last journey

I'm chosing to let go
after three generations
it was never my dream
among the candlelit memories
are those deserving a slate
cleaned with a scouring brush
the photographer will be here
all that realtor sugar and spice

in autumn things fall away
I long for the sea
I'll miss the river
the backpack can stay on the front porch




Poetry by Katarina Wikholm
Read 236 times
Written on 2016-09-30 at 10:58

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
I listened to the hymn then read this. When I got to the lines "I long for the sea, I'll miss the river" my heart sank a little. Sad but nice.
2016-10-06



This seems nostalgic
2016-10-01


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Very nice!
2016-10-01


Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
I chose to copy and paste the link to YouTube. And now I am listening and reading and commenting. I imagine you writing while listening to this playing. I am in a melancholic state.
I too and moving the last of my things, suitcases and papers and such. Not as beautiful as yours, but my heart is heavy.

You have a gift for imagery and mood setting and mind tampering with your poetry. And so, it is with this.

I applaud you once again.
2016-09-30