He was just there,
And now he’s gone?
Life fractured on a Sunday afternoon.
I heard the crackle.
It was absurd how he lay there
Like a child’s spilled cup.
He was just there,
And now he’s gone?
Jesus, I don’t know what, but
please.
A heap of shale,
A cumulus of splinters.
A requiem of pottery and ash.
I have some questions.
It was kindless how he lay there
And no one got him up.
He was just there,
And now he’s gone?
Jesus, I don’t know what, but
please.
This is no easy read. The shock and grief are palpable.
The way you repeat the first two lines throughout the poem is extremely powerful, and even more so coupled with the repeated “Jesus, I don’t know what, but please…”
“A heap of shale,
A cumulus of splinters.
A requiem of pottery and ash.
I have some questions.”
The final line of this stanza is so gritty next to the imagery of its preceding lines.
This is just a really outstanding poem. It hurts.
I agree. It’s sharp. As in pointy and painful.
The scary winning upward is actually unparalleled, and that i ‘m filled up with surprise any early morning as i find I have completed it.CLytton Strachey (1880C1932), Engl