“My Grandfather’s Chair” (2024)
Albert John Belmont
Oil on Canvas
On my way to St. Paul
I drive through the gates
of Resurrection Cemetery,
a place I have not been
in almost 50 years.
He is buried there
on a hill beside
a chain link fence,
oak trees now grown to
shade the past.
The woman in the office
looks up the name and date,
marks a map. It’s in Section 64
just up from the water spigot.
I search, then find the small
gravestone overgrown
with weeds and grass.
His name buried along
with our young marriage.
A sharp stick becomes a tool.
I edge the turf away, the stone
still cold, even in the sun.
–after Naomi Shibab Nye
It is difficult to know what to do
with so much energy. With lethargy
there’s a fix. Curl into an over-stuffed
chair with a soft blanket, a good mystery.
Savor an over-filled glass of red wine
with a bowl of salted nuts on the side.
But on days bursting with vigor
it’s possible to overdo the day:
fold laundry, make appointments,
walk in the woods, call siblings,
take a yoga class, talk politics
then open another bottle of red.
It’s difficult to decide. I’d choose
over-the top days rather than
these afternoons of being alone
to pore over old photos, magnify
my reflection in the bathroom mirror
to tweeze one wiry hair from my chin
while I wait for a call from my daughter.
Patricia Joslin: Writing is my respite from the world, a way to process what is in my head and in my heart. I call myself an emerging poet at age 74. I’ve discovered a stimulating new chapter in life, connecting with teachers and fellow writers who stretch me in unexpected ways. Poetry as “literary therapy” brought me safely through the stages of grief following my husband’s death. My chapbook, I’ll Buy Flowers Again Tomorrow: Poems of Loss and Healing, was published in 2023 by Charlotte Lit Press. Since then my poetry has appeared in a variety of publications. A second collection of poems is now in manuscript form. This submission reflects my response to aging as a single woman. Online: patriciajoslin.com.