poem 5 of 30 - April 2012
Lay him down – an elegy for the surviving
For Cameron Fuller-Holloway (4/5/86-1/15/12)
Once there was Charles, walking his bicycle
home; leaving us when his time seemed too green
for going. And then there was Curtis
whom we lost to the scandal of the time
who couldn’t tell me whom he loved
because it was 1986 and these were new
monsters. And before them Camille claimed
by a raging surf, and her brother forever
angry after that, but at least their father
stopped hitting their mother. And Ajodah
whose own lungs betrayed him every story
a gospel of tragedy, a god reaching in
to teach us how to lay our loves down.
And then Rudy’s liver and Peter’s heart
and Kirk’s heart and Gabrielle’s cancer
and Richard’s cancer and Brenda’s cancer
and Peter’s cancer – moved so swift
it sparkled like a flying fish and came
upon us in the dark. What I’m trying
to say is we lay our loves down in the fullness
of the rich dirt, in the loam of the night,
in the cocoa-rich valleys in which they were born,
pour out in their memories the very spirits
which deconstructed the angels
in their platelets – sitting round their
beds, remembering once how you made
love, and the only language between you
was sweat.
And now your own young
beauty – who leaves, even as he walks
among you like a promise – love him
in this laying down, love him
in the magic of his going. This is all
the sky has been trying to train in us.
Mark only the spot where he touched
you last and tell your hearts they are not made
of tombstones, but laughter, water, blood,
fire, salt, stars, mud, rain, hyacinths, all
the secrets of ongoing and forgiveness,
the willingness of drums, the want
of flesh, the eucharist of liquor
in the throat. This is what the heart
is made of, and what is bequeathed
us by this boy – beautiful and young
in his going.
What are the questions asked
of us by breath? By the sun?
by the miracle of moonlight
from the window of a plane,
all the earth a conspiracy
of light? Every day those we love
squeeze through doors toward
something so brilliantly beyond us,
all they can think to leave us are
these wonders - 44 black tulips
flowering on a lover’s lawn,
the discovery of laughter in chimpanzees,
the improbable honor of new babies,
and weddings and the taut peal of love
singing out between people made
of ridiculous hopes – lay him down
and know how amazing it was
to be him – made entirely of muscle
and by whom loved like he might
be pope, president or rock star.
Lay Cameron down and dress him
in the honorifics of anything good
you ever saw in him.
The day he first showed you
the dark lines of his palms
are still forever yours.
Lay him down in that
generous embrace – the one made
of fish and moonlight and the impossible
echo of drums, and sing him home,
sing him home, sing him
everywhere he needs
to roam.
2 Comments:
I knew and loved Cameron, your words moved me to tears. Not only for Cam, but the sense of extreme loss that people feel everyday. You are truly gifted. RIParadise Cameron Fuller Holloway.
Nicce blog
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