Evening Journal
I was talking to your portrait this morning
I never imagined myself as that type of person
Things I mentioned to you came to pass later that day
I will be more careful now that I know you are listening
11/20/23
You don't call anymore
but we still talk most days
I can feel your answers as I sift through the history
of all the things you held dear
12/06/23
I have yet to hang your portrait
the one where your smile gives comfort
and your eyes say you know my intent
It seems I am delaying the final act of memorial
04/7/24
They asked if I missed you on Father's Day
I stumbled with my reply when I realized
it was the same as the day you left
and would be from now on
07/01/24
You came by in another late night dream
to pick up your mail and some clean shirts
As I sat on the edge of your bed I knew
I could never take your place but would have to try
09/02/24
Books that once held little interest for me
seem to fascinate me now
I wonder if I am reading them for you
or you are reading them for me
09/15/24
Committed to Memory
It seems
she remembers
everything.
Me
not so much.
I am not sure
when I began
to look right at the movie actors
and hear the bell of memory
ringing off in the distance
just far enough away
to make the sound of their name
undecipherable
(It was Eli Wallach
and she knew it instantly.)
My memory now operates independently
judging the importance of names and events
regardless of my efforts
but there have been moments
when I knew immediately
I had witnessed the unforgettable
like when I told my father
that she was sick
his very last words to me were
“Well, tell her I’m thinking about her.”
I am fairly certain
I’ll remember that
forever.
March 2023
Ken Owen October 25, 2024
Van Niddy Press
