Bellow’s Widow

  bellows widow

 

She only knows, sees

the sanctity that haunts her –

he, who to others is gone

to her is omnipresent.

Sainted in his absence –

his spirit and scent lingering, melting

in the handkerchief she clutches

with gaunt and weightless hands.

 

Through deep absinthe eyes

she contemplates a sorrow

beyond the morgue of emotion –

the intimate stare

transfixed under black veil

will never move again

in prayer or mourning,

nor morbid tears.

 

2 comments

  1. Craig,

    Two things make me know this woman. 1- Your words which photograph her
    heart, mind and soul, writing her past, present and future in such a way
    that the reader shares it intimately and 2- The hands that Bellow painted.
    They do indeed make the picture, and your words give it life.

    I love the depth of this poem, the soul of it.

    Sarah

    Like

  2. Hi Craig

    Wonderful portrayal of this woman in the portrait! You give such depth and intensity to her presence that we can feel the sorrow and the adoration she has for him in her stillness. I really think such excellent phrases
    as “morgue of emotion”. “sainted in his absence” and “gaunt and weightless hands” enrich this character and this poem with feeling, image and a haunting sense of simply “being there”. So well done! I enjoyed this piece. Thank you for posting it!

    My best
    Wendy

    Like

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