My friend and fellow poet, Brian Funke (check out his lovely Poetry & Process) and I created this short collaboration on grief. Five short posts run that in a quick series of daily micro posts. Two of Brian’s beautiful poems bookending my three micro essays.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
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(100 words)
Inside the cavern, the black steel trunks are rocks. My father’s name and address are stenciled on them. The letters glow. Signatures from my army childhood.
Prepare to move as soon as two years are up. Wipe the trunks, pack them, lock them. Paint over the old address. Stencil on a new one.
Goodbye to old friends.
Hello, new town, new school, new home!
Then… Stand at the periphery. Search for any recognition. Inhale. Dive in.
That feeling of being an outsider becomes a shadow companion. Nothing else feels that familiar again—except the love I tend and keep. And wanderlust.
-reena
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