Absent Friends
Circles grow, encompass
more than they can hold,
splinter, yet still overlap.
Who is to say what stays,
who goes, when time
cares not whether a tree falls?
Within a circle?
Outside? All that matters
is that it is gone.
At my fiftieth high school class reunion, deceased class members were memorialized by placing their graduation photos on a tabletop “tree.” It was a sobering moment, as the loss of most of them was news to many in attendance.
This is my response to Poetics: Naming the Rose, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which asks us to write a poem using the name of rose from a given list of English country garden roses, either as a title or within the poem. I have chosen “Absent Friends.”
rivrvlogr 
I was moved by this poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was moved, too, by your well-crafted poem Ken. Circles and questions–always a favorite of mine. It must have been very sobering to be there and see them memorialized. Thank you for this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Merril.
And thanks for the prompt.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re very welcome, Ken.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh how I can relate to this. At our 50th college reunion, there was much laughter, catching up, marveling at the lack of hair, the bigger belly, the hair turned grey, the lost weight, the gained weight, the tales now of grandchildren rather than children. But the sobering part of the evening was a presentation of all in our class who have died…a slide presentation with instrumental music, no voices. Simply the photo from the year book of the person as we knew him/her, and a photo of the person close to when he/she died, send in by their loved one or family for the presentation. And the interesting thing was the circles that overlapped now….even though this wasn’t a person in our “group”, on our “team” in sports, in our sorority or fraternity, this was a fellow student and it was amazing to realize, during that presentation, that so much more tied us to that person than what “group” they were in.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Lillian.
As you said, the changes are so evident, so it seems natural (especially upon seeing photos from 50 years earlier) to think of those gone as being forever youthful, even if they were on in years.
LikeLiked by 1 person
When my aunt and uncle died recently within the space of a few months, I realized that my brother and I were the oldest in my immediate family–all my cousins are younger. I did not make it to my 50th reunion, but I imagine the feeling is similar–what was once an intimate circle now has a permanent empty space. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have cousins who are 16 years older, so I’m getting closer to that truth, myself.
The reunion was an interesting experience for me. I never gave much thought to my own age – until I started on Social Security. Now it rears its head in my poetry. Still, being in a large room surrounded by people who are older than I imagine myself to be was very sobering.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Older than I imagine myself to be–that’s it exactly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think we need to be continually reminded and make sure to use our remaining days as well as we can.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So true, John. Thank you.
LikeLike
Beautiful, sobering, respectful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, great comment on the exclusion/inclusion dilemma.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Paul.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very welcome Ken 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
So moving… and the saddest of all is often that you sometimes don’t even remember who the person was.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sadly so. Thank you.
LikeLike
I love where this took you, Ken. Such a moving piece.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 Thank you.
LikeLike
Tender thoughts, yes….
LikeLiked by 1 person
☺️
LikeLike