He pointed at the grass
beneath the cottonwood tree
and said “dado.”
Shadow? I asked.
Not ball, not mama,
not cat, not dad.
Shadow.
Already at one,
he was aware of both
what is and what isn’t here—
how sometimes the light
is intercepted.
After Finn died, I dreamt
a young boy taught me
how I could help my son’s
transformation by
guiding his energy
through the shadow
of a total eclipse,
a golden corona flaming
about the circumference.
All night, certain I was awake,
I pulled luminous swirls
through the dark center, and
Finn’s energy disappeared
into the heart of the shadow,
into the light beyond.
A shadow is nothing,
of course, which is to say
it is also everything. The way
my life is now steeped
in the shadow of his life,
the way the shape of him
follows me everywhere I go.
*
this poem has been published in ONE ART
Ahh…
Finn’s shadow will follow you/but only to regions where there is light.
Such intense, intricate dreams you have. You and Corrine must have incredible conversations.
Yes, and the umbilicus being cut doesn’t severe the actual connection, hmm? Not one whit.
sweetest you–thank you for refinding that poem. I had it in mind, too, as I wrote this one. The dreams have been such an important part of healing. loving you–
No need for me to refind, Once You Know Darkness; I have it memorized. (I also have, Suitcase of Yeses, saved to my iTunes.) Loving and missing you.
ahhh, that means so much that you have it by heart
There is no shadow without the light, so we hold both possibilities. Such a powerful dream! xoxo
I think of this all the time–the shadow will only follow us to regions where there is light–and yes, the dream–I was quite sure it wasn’t a dream at the time, but i think it was, though that makes it somehow no less real.
Intriguing dream (and recall). A new perspective on “shadow”. Living in very hot climates, I seek shadows (the literal kind) – am I thus more adaptive to the shadow of grief? I am still followed by my mother’s shadow, gone 32 years yesterday; so pretty sure my son’s shadow will follow “everywhere I go”. Ever connected regardless of physical presence. Sure wish I could tag along on his spirit adventures! Maybe via dreams?
such a curious thought about the shadows– and about the dreams, I felt in the first few months so connected through my dream life, and now I cannot for the life of me seem to hold on to a single dream past waking … it’s almost frustrating, um, yeah, it is. Especially when they were so rich and so helpful.
There’s something about that in the Peter Pan story too I’ve never been able to really put my finger on. And the tic-tock imagery of time with the crocodile chasing Hook around, it’s heavy stuff…combined with J Barry’s backstory of course. I can’t help get lost in my shadow sometimes as a existential puzzle of sorts. Fascinating this story about Finn, as I recall early on you naming the darkness it didn’t seem he could avoid or reconcile somehow. In mental illness, I’ve seen that kind of veil pass over my daughter’s eyes, and it’s a very real thing. Your imagery here is super , and your ongoing explorations throughout it. I’m reminded of a Billy Collins line about death being the magnetic north in poetry. Thanks for sharing Rosemerry.
death as magnetic north, wow. yes, that has felt true. And oh friend, my heart rushes to help support yours as you support your daughter. Sending you hugs and gratitude for this shadow musing
This poem touched me so deeply. A dream so resonant with ways you have spoken of Finn. He exists, in shadow and in light, he always will.✨
I have noticed a keen awareness of shadows, especially from overhead, since the deaths of my beloved grandson and my dearest friend. I notice the shadow of the bird overhead, a leaf falling, a butterfly shadow…it became such an awareness a times, I could only believe it was a portal that grief had opened in me. I used to sit with my friend, who was dying, in her living room in the late afternoon light. One day she softly whispered “look!” and pointed to the wall across the room. Leafy shadows filled he wall, with two shadow hummingbirds seeking nectar from shadow blossoms. She looked at me with soft eyes and said. “This is my world within the world”. I hold that tender moment as sacred. I feel there is a poem in this story… Tender love to you and your shadow boy…💗
Ohhh, shadow as portal. And that conversation and experience with your dying friend, so profound. yes, I think a poem for you in there … I could see it. like a short art film.
Penetrating poem … may the shadow caress the places where the soul rests from the brightness of grief and finds soft comfort against the trunk of old wisdom that is anchored in the deep roots of memories.
Hey, I have missed you! Thank you for this comment–for the blessing in it, the gift of shadow.
Blessings ongoing. …
Oh yes. This is the truth of it. Wonderfully said.
thank you, dear Sherry–it happened just like that …