Helen Eastman
May 4, 1918 – September 17, 2009
if there are any heavens my mother
if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses
my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)
standing near my
(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see
nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my
(suddenly in sunlight
he will bow,
& the whole garden will bow)
– ee cummings
Oh Kit-much love to you and yours.
.-= judith´s last blog ..the art of kurt jackson =-.
Thank you, Judith.
Oh, Kit, you found that beautiful poem for her, it’s perfect. (I hadn’t read it since college.)
Dearest Kit,
To quote Calvin Trillin: “It is more appropriate to have a poem than a prayer.”
I have always felt that poets had hearts that could see, as well as feel. This poet (e.e.) captured through an image, the kind of loving devotion your parents had – my parents, too, had that kind of love that was from another age and time and came from deep within the core of their beings. Just to behold it gives us joy!
Much love,
Jo Anne